


Spectre One Rises

by Anoray



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Canon Compliant as much as possible, Character Death Fix, Eventually we'll get a reunion but for now who knows what is gonna happen?, If you're fine with Kanan staying dead this is not for you, Meanwhile Hera deals with Jacen and burgeoning Force powers, What kind of mischief can Kanan and Ezra and Thrawn get into 5 years from the epilogue, Wild Space here we come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-04-13 20:58:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 46,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14120685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anoray/pseuds/Anoray
Summary: Is your master truly dead?Through the Force, Ezra Bridger hears strange messages and visions about Kanan Jarrus even as he must cope with a forced alliance in Wild Space with Thrawn and the remaining crew of the Star Destroyer,Chimaera. Surrounded by looming dangers, Ezra embarks on a risky adventure that could lead to the return of his master, or end in disaster for all involved.





	1. Out of the Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this was a challenge to myself to find a canon-ish way to bring Kanan back into SWR without cheapening his death or belittling his sacrifice. Kanan's such an intriguing character with waaay too many more adventures left in him, so I just couldn't sit idly by all broken-hearted ;) 
> 
> Luckily, it seemed to me the SWR creative team left us fans some wiggle room for a plausible way to use Kanan's ambiguous connection with Dume to restore our Cowboy Jedi Spacedad to the Ghost family. I did my best to stick to SWR as we currently know it, but my story jumps off into its own nether regions. For all the Kanan-ites still hurting after Jedi Night, I hope this helps bring a little smile back!
> 
> This first chapter is a prologue of sorts and relies on the reader's familiarity with Jedi Night and onward...

**_Kanan 1 BBY_ **

Kanan braced himself on the shuddering metal of the exploding fuel pod, allowing the Force to flow through him as never before.  The engulfing flames raged, slamming into the immense shield of energy Kanan wielded to protect the Imperial gunship hovering behind him.  That gunship carried everyone that mattered most to him in the galaxy.  Hera. Ezra. Sabine. _You will live_.

Kanan filled with an almost ecstatic certainty that eradicated the last shreds of self-doubt he’d harbored for so long.  He felt no pain. No fear. _This is my moment.  This is where I am needed most_.  Kanan pushed even harder at the relentless inferno, wringing out precious seconds to ensure his family’s escape to safety.

“Kanan!” His focus split as Hera rushed up behind him.  Kanan instinctively reached back, lifting Hera into a Force embrace.  Turning slowly to face the woman he would die for, Kanan realized his only regret was the shock and horror she radiated, the grief she and the others would suffer.  _If only Hera knew what was crystal, clear to him._   His death had a greater purpose. Lothal’s rising sun would illuminate irreparable damage to Thrawn’s TIE Defender program.  Hera’s mission would be complete.

Holding Hera aloft, Kanan reveled in her unique Force signature.  Her inner and outer beauty had always shone brightest to him no matter the source of his vision. Kanan hoped she’d finally come to understand she had been _his_ life’s mission from the moment they’d met on Gorse. All he could do was envelop her with the love he felt, grateful for the years they’d shared.  In that moment, Kanan sensed a second, subtle Force signature pulsing within Hera’s body. _Hera will bear our child!_    

Indescribable joy ignited Kanan from the inside out.  Oh, if only he _could_ stay! Every part of him longed to be a father, a husband, to protect his entire _Ghost_ family for their future to come.  But his future…that remained to be seen.  Ignoring his thudding heart, Kanan hurled Hera into the safety of Ezra’s arms.

Now the Force crested within him, a rising tidal wave.  As the energy surged ever higher, Kanan felt thirty years of body aches and old scars diminish.  At the same time, the miracle of sight returned to his formerly blinded eyes, an unexpected gift of color and light from the Force.

Kanan’s eyes drank in Hera’s loveliness like sweet nectar.  Her eyes widened farther in stunned surprise—she’d realized Kanan could see her! _I love you, Hera._   Kanan’s gaze shifted to include Ezra. _You’ve got this from here, kid. I know you can do it._  So much more to say to them both, but his time had run out.  With a final look at Hera, Kanan Force-shoved the gunship away with all his might. 

Kanan projected his consciousness outward milliseconds before the fireball engulfed his body.  Soaring upward, Kanan saw the gunship zoom safely away as the fuel pods ignited in a chain reaction of bright, white light—

**_Ezra 5 ABY_ **

A knock. “Master Ezra, are you all right?” A louder knock.

Ezra rose groggily from the none too cozy floor of his cabin aboard the _Chimaera_.  His mind was still emblazoned with the image of Kanan’s milky, blinded eyes brightening to vivid teal.  _My master saw me in the end._

“Master Ezra?” His droid, PZ-5 stepped through the now open doorway.  Her reflective visor and droning voice somehow emulated concern.  “I heard your cries outside in the corridor.”

“I’m fine, PeeZee. It was…another one of those visions.” Ezra shakily waved her outstretched hand away, wondering not for the first time how a tactical droid who looked so much like AP-5 could possess such a different demeanor.  Maybe it was a lucky combination of the droid parts he’d salvaged on Thrawn’s purrgil-wrecked Star Destroyer to repair her.  Ezra doubted Chopper would have been impressed with his handiwork, but he might have gotten a thumbs up from Sabine. Ezra’s heart thumped wistfully.

“The one about your former master, Kanan Jarrus?”

Ezra tucked away thoughts of Sabine and his _Ghost_ family as he shuffled unsteadily toward his bunk. It did him no good to wallow in homesickness like a puffer pig. “Yeah, and the images get clearer each time. But I feel like I’m missing some important detail.” 

PZ cocked her head. “But, if I may say so, what is the point of revisiting your master’s demise after these many years? Surely that is only painful and changes nothing you both endured.” 

Ezra’s knees buckled right before he slumped onto the stiff mattress.  He had no answer for the droid.  _Yet._   What he did know was the visions about Kanan began tormenting him shortly after he’d sensed the death of the Emperor in the Force.  That stunning revelation struck Ezra about five years after the purrgil joined Ezra in his determined battle to liberate Lothal by demolishing Thrawn’s blockade. 

While aboard the _Chimaera_ as Thrawn’s now escaped prisoner, Ezra silently asked the Force sensitive creatures for one last favor. _Take me where I’m needed most, a place where I no longer endanger my family_.  The purrgil lit up for hyperspace flight—and transported the entire Star Destroyer to the farthest reaches of Wild Space.  Setting the badly damaged vessel adrift in the atmosphere of an uncharted planet, the purrgil vanished. 

Ezra felt abandoned, alone, injured Jedi among enraged Imperials without even his lightsaber by his side.  He struggled to understand why the purrgil dumped him at the farthest edge of the galaxy, forced into an alliance with an equally reluctant and disadvantaged Thrawn for mutual survival.  Ezra reached out to the Force with a heavy heart.  _Was my sacrifice made in vain?_  As if in answer, things immediately got worse.

The scouting parties sent to the scattering of planetary communities in search of aid found only the remains of tens of thousands of inhabitants, all massacred over a standard year ago.  Any survivors must have abandoned their world. Or--more likely—been taken as slaves.  Shivers ran up Ezra’s spine as he explored war torn streets and realized any structure or object that could be associated with a spiritual, artistic or cultural purpose lay in savage ruins.  In contrast, technological and industrial elements stood untouched, as if they were beneath the notice of those who had decimated the population.  Ezra shared in the Imperials’ constant apprehension.  Was something far worse following behind, on its way to swoop in and claim its tribute?

Thrawn strategically used the precarious situation to his starship’s advantage.  For several months, Ezra and the crew scavenged supplies and materials to make the _Chimaera_ space worthy again.  Very early on, Ezra and the others became too exhausted and overworked to spare much thought on the potential of impending doom.   Once the Star Destroyer was finally space bound, progress was painfully slow.  Without star maps to navigate the maze of destructive anomalies—and lacking reliable sources of food and fuel--the _Chimaera_ limped forward system by system toward the Unknown Regions.

By necessity, the ship’s course settings also became more furtive.  The few habitable worlds they encountered all had the same thing in common: the annihilation of their population, and demolition of all religious and cultural artifacts.  Ezra’s heart twisted for the innocent dead, and harbored concern for the vulnerable _Chimaera_.  Every time Ezra attempted to gain some sense of the mysterious attackers through the Force, he hit a blank wall.  The Grand Admiral seemed to find Ezra’s lack of perceptive success intriguing.

Meanwhile, Thrawn’s cold red eyes missed nothing as his crew collected grim evidence of a new and significant threat to the known galaxy. Ezra loathed Thrawn for all the suffering he’d inflicted on his _Ghost_ family and the Rebellion.  Yet, Ezra developed a grudging respect for the way Thrawn galvanized his initially shell-shocked crew to restore and maintain Imperial order and discipline.  Ezra covertly gleaned much about the Grand Admiral, who was systematically transforming his purrgil-induced defeat into a surveillance mission vital to the Empire.   Ezra had no doubt Thrawn envisioned a triumphant return with priceless data on the hostiles and star maps of the Wild regions to bestow upon Palpatine.  Although…Ezra increasingly sensed Thrawn’s loyalty belonged to the Chiss Ascendancy alone.

Ever practical, Thrawn elevated Ezra to spearhead missions to scavenge supplies and fuel from each corpse-filled settlement to sustain the _Chimaera_.  Unlike the Imperials, Ezra was hardened by extreme and lean conditions under the Rebellion.  Ezra found himself even relishing the dangerous work at times.  He knew full well his success in bringing back his scouting parties alive earned him Thrawn’s increasing trust as well as greater tolerance from the crew.  But with PZ-5 his only genuine friend on the _Chimaera,_ Ezra’s loneliness and homesickness for his _Ghost_ family remained a daily battle. 

About three months after the _Chimaera_ was again space bound, Ezra’s Jedi abilities earned him something more than trust from the Grand Admiral.  During a mission debriefing in Thrawn’s office, Ezra’s jaw almost dropped when the Chiss opened a locked drawer and withdrew… _a lightsaber?_ No—Ezra’s heart lurched.  From what little Kanan had shared of being made a Knight during his Jedi Temple vision, this was a Temple Guard’s lightsaber pike. 

“You did especially well today, Commander Bridger. Your…communication with the reptilian creatures prevented several troopers from being devoured.” Thrawn calmly held the beautifully designed hilt out toward Ezra.

 “All those big lizards wanted was a fair share of grain in the silos.” Ezra did not reach for the pike. He eyed Thrawn accusingly. “You’ve had this all along?”

Thrawn nodded. “It is one of the many Jedi artifacts I’ve collected, along with the mask that accompanied it.”

“And you’re giving it to me _now_?” Ezra resisted the urge to snatch the pike from Thrawn’s blue hand and bash him over the head with it.

“You once advised me that the Force is not a weapon. That it is something I would never understand. Perhaps you are right, Commander. However, what I _have_ come to understand is that a Jedi like you without his lightsaber is…far less efficient in the field.”

Eyes narrowed, Ezra took the hilt away. He immediately felt the minute vibration from the crystal within.  Igniting the pike, Ezra’s whole sense of being lit up with the bright, yellow blades.  _I’s been so long since I’ve held a lightsaber_. Recalling the red blades of Maul and the Inquisitors, Ezra gently twirled the humming pike, careful not to slice Thrawn’s desk—or Thrawn--in half. “I’ve never trained with a double-bladed weapon.”

“Then there is no time like the present.” With an aloof gesture, Thrawn dismissed Ezra. Ezra rotated the blades a few times on his way to the door, then switched the pike off to hang it on his belt.

“I’ll put this to good use.” Ezra was not about to thank Thrawn.  The Temple Guard’s pike never belonged with the arrogant Chiss in the first place.  Thrawn’s crimson eyes gleamed back at him, clearly neither expecting--nor wanting--gratitude.

“Indeed you will, Commander.”

For this moment and countless reasons, Ezra never told Thrawn the Emperor was dead. He’d kept the news even from PZ-5. The day the Force had shifted profoundly, Ezra and PZ-5 were using one of the _Chimaera’s_ remaining _Lambda_ class shuttles to orbit the latest decimated planet.  As usual, Ezra reached out with the Force to sense any dangers before landing. Ezra felt himself abruptly sucked into an abnormally deep trance. His skin beaded with sweat as if a fever had broken within him.  _The Emperor has fallen_. Astonished, Ezra probed harder for details--and gagged, recoiling from what burned like ichor spewing from a ruptured, deeply infected wound.

Ezra felt caught in an ocean of Force energy settling itself after the passage of a raging storm.  As the Dark receded, Ezra found himself encountering a subtle ripple of Light.  _Who is that?_    The Force signature felt vaguely familiar, but it was not Ahsoka Tano or Obi-wan Kenobi.  It felt nothing like Kanan.  His former master’s Force signature carried undertones of an elemental, primal energy.  Whoever this sparkling ripple was, their Force signature pulsed as a faint beacon to the known galaxy.  Ezra’s heart bounded. He’d rushed through the mission, countering PZ-5’s inquiries and concerns with rote responses.  Back in his cabin, one thought flared over and over.

_With the Emperor dead, I can safely reach out to Sabine! It’s time for her to find me!_ To Ezra’s surprise, the Force met this thought with firm resistance. _You are not done here_.  Too eager for home to be easily deterred, Ezra called out furtively to the purrgil for hours.  Silence.  Apparently, they agreed with the Force. That night, visions of Kanan’s death started ripping Ezra’s heart open again and again. PZ-5 had found Ezra passed out in the corner of his cabin and refused to leave until he told her what happened.

“Master Ezra?”

Dragged from his river of past thoughts, Ezra opened his eyes--to find PZ-5’s gleaming visor looming over his face. “Agh!”  The equally startled droid staggered back.

“I’m sorry, sir.  I’ve been relaying details concerning our mission to Ja’Ghar and it appeared you fell asleep.”  PZ-5’s head angled in a frustrated pose. “Did you hear a single word I said?”

“Uh, no. Could you repeat, please?” Ezra rubbed his aching forehead. Was the droid shaking her finger at him?

“I must first express how increasingly debilitating these episodes have become.  In fact, I should escort you to the—”

“You know what would really clear my head, PeeZee? A strong cup of caf.”  This was their longstanding code for:   _I need you to go spy on what’s going on out there_.  PZ-5 shifted into an anticipatory stance.

“Oh. Of course, Master Ezra. Would you care for any additives?” _How nosy would you like me to be?_ If droids had dreams, Ezra had a strong suspicion PZ’s would consist of her running amok as an intimidating KX-security unit. 

“Just an extra shot, please.”  _Check on the Big Blue Guy if you can_.  “Oh, and inventory the shuttle, make sure those supplies I asked for are on board. We should be coming up on the Ja’Ghar system anytime now.”

“That’s precisely what I was attempting to tell you.” With an exasperated gesture, the droid stepped out, the door shutting behind her. Ezra rubbed his chin, smiling.  _My goatee could sure use a trim_.  His smile faltered; Hera had loved to tweak Kanan’s beard. 

_Is your master truly dead?_

Ezra stiffened.  That voice had resonated through what Ezra half-jokingly referred to as his “nature channel,” the Force frequency he used most often to commune with wildlife. The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Hearing nothing more, Ezra sighed out a shaky breath. _Why is all this happening? What does it mean?_   Maybe PZ-5 was right.  The visions _were_ digging up Ezra’s long buried feelings of guilt.  Yes, Ezra had let Kanan go…but some core part of himself still felt a vitally important task regarding his master remained undone. 

Interwoven with all his emotional baggage, Ezra sensed an underlying, expanding imbalance in the Force. With the Emperor gone, new evils were undoubtedly emerging from their shadows to fill the vacuum.  Already here in Wild Space, they faced a merciless horde butchering its way into the galaxy.  The Light desperately needed every Jedi it could muster against the encroaching Dark.  If only Kanan was still alive to help Ezra tip the scales. But Kanan was gone.

**_Thrawn 5 ABY_ **

Grand Admiral Thrawn paced the _Chimaera’s_ bridge, overseeing his skeletal crew, each member grown long accustomed to working multiple positions efficiently.  His red eyes turned to the viewscreen…and flinched almost imperceptibly as he recalled vast, swarming tentacles shattering through the permasteel glass.  _I see your defeat. Like many arms surrounding you in a cold embrace._ Not for the first time, Thrawn speculated about what had become of the Bendu and how the creature had predicted his situation.

Thrawn did not berate himself for being outmaneuvered by a sky full of berserk purrgil.  He doubted any tactical officer in the Empire could have predicted such a peculiar, supernatural assault.  Thrawn did acknowledge, however, that he’d underestimated young Ezra Bridger.  He would not make that mistake again.  When so many of the _Chimaera’s_ crew clamored for the Jedi’s blood in payment for their exile to Wild Space, Thrawn logically reminded them that Bridger was, in fact, the only one among them capable of recalling the purrgil for a hastier return. 

Thrawn ferreted out soon enough that the unpredictable creatures had abandoned Bridger, apparently indefinitely.  But Thrawn kept that to himself.  By this time, he had (at least temporarily) set aside his disdain for Bridger’s Jedi witchery; it had proven far too useful time and again, especially with navigation around volatile anomalies, and warnings of impending danger.  Bridger’s Force sensitivity and unique ability to communicate with planetary fauna remained crucial to gleaning what little information was available on each war struck world they explored.  Thrawn was not easily shaken, but he did admit to himself the absence of sentient life in this sector was…disturbing.

Whoever or whatever this menace was, Thrawn noted certain intriguing similarities with the Yuuzhan Vong, merciless invaders who threatened the Unknown Regions and the Chiss Ascendency. The Vong despised mechanical technology; instead, they developed genetically engineered and organic technological innovations for their civilizations. When Bridger noted he felt nothing from the Force concerning the menace here in Wild Space, Thrawn pondered. He was aware Jedi records revealed the Vong had no Force signature, and the Jedi could only indirectly attack using their Force skills.

Yet, Thrawn’s gut told him that the menace here in Wild Space was something other.  This invading horde did not pillage, or loot.  There was no evidence yet of escaped prisoners or slaves.  What this menace did with incredible precision was terminate sentient organics. As an art connoisseur, Thrawn found the horde’s defacement of cultural, artistic and spiritual constructs a puzzling affront to his sensibilities.  Yet, by leaving the technologies of these worlds untouched, the invaders apparently considered these achievements feeble and completely beneath them.  Thrawn’s intuition hinted at a menace inorganic in nature, but he required physical evidence to prove his theory.  If this did turn out to be the truth, Thrawn contemplated what might occur if the Yuuzhan Vong and this mysterious adversary met head to head.  Who might be the victor?  _Or, better yet, no victor at all._

Regardless, it appeared fortuitous the purrgil had unwittingly provided Thrawn with an early warning signal for the known galaxy.  And he had every intention that the _Chimaera_ would deliver her message.

“Sir, we have reached Ja’Ghar, but are now receiving an unidentified transmission from a beacon in Kkantu, the planetary system beyond.” The officer looked up at Thrawn, eyes round with puzzlement. “Grand Admiral…it is a Republic code from the Clone Wars era.”

Thrawn ceased pacing as he processed the startling information. “Very good. Instruct Commander Bridger to disembark on his mission here. Set a course for the beacon. Bridger will rendezvous with the Chimaera at those coordinates once his mission is complete.”

“Aye, sir.”

**_Kanan 1 BBY_ **

Kanan emerged from the incandescent light of the explosion, completely disoriented.  Slowly, he realized he was within the dim and empty mountain cave on Lothal.  Kanan felt weightless yet sensed an indefinable mass to his energy field.  He also tingled with anticipation. Kanan’s visions prior to Hera’s rescue had hinted he might temporarily retain his own consciousness to help guide Ezra through the next step in protecting Lothal.  But the Force had made no promises, not by a long shot.

Kanan wondered how long his individuality would stay intact. As if invited by his thoughts, a distant tug pulled insistently at Kanan. _This way._  Curiously, Kanan immediately felt himself held in place by an opposing tug.  The overall sensation was indescribable; like being caught in a web, yet actually being a part of the web itself. 

Apprehensive that his consciousness might meld into the Cosmic Force at any moment, Kanan focused on finding Hera and the others.  _I’ll at least check on them, offer any comfort I’m allowed_.  Just thinking of Hera caused Kanan’s energy to vibrate intently, which helped him ignore the insistent tug.   _Good._ He’d be thrilled to keep Hera planted in his mind for as long as this took.

Moving his energy mass took some practice. Rotating slowly, Kanan noticed his mask and shorn hair on the alter.  Looking up, his gaze was captured by an array of mysterious, ancient hieroglyphs along the cave’s back wall.  _The walls are telling a story_.  Kanan recalled Ezra’s voice from the past.   _There are people coming from the sky. I think they’re Jedi_. 

Drifting closer, Kanan realized a cluster of three figures clearly represented members of the Jedi High Council.  Ezra might have recognized Yoda, but he wouldn’t have known Ki-Adi-Mundi and Mace Windu.  The three Jedi reached for a baby, who was surrounded by a halo of powerful Force lines.  Kanan felt an electric shock of sudden awareness.   _That child is me._

_YES. CALEB DUME._

The affirmation pulsed through Kanan.  The intensity reminded Kanan of Bendu, the way that Force entity’s voice permeated Kanan right down his molecules. Kanan tried to speak aloud—but he had no mouth. His consciousness reached out. _Who are you?_

_I AM DUME._

That declaration sent imagery flooding through Kanan’s senses. He reeled, overwhelmed by this ancient, elemental Force entity.  Dume had to be at least as old as Lothal itself. Kanan struggled to understand Dume’s inhuman thoughts, feeling like an ant trying to converse with a god.    _Hey, Dume, you’re going to have to keep it very simple._

_I JOINED WITH YOU. FOR LOTHAL._

Memories inundated Kanan, all out of order:  He was a youngling training in the Coruscant Temple, he kissed Hera heatedly in the cockpit of the _Ghost_ , he drunkenly beat the crap out of a loudmouth smuggler, he ran in shame while his master, Depa Billaba, died to save him.  Kanan clashed lightsabers with Darth Vader, he consoled Ezra after Malachor. The final memory was of his parents, apparently simple farmers who handed him off tearfully to the three Jedi masters.   _But why, Dume, why join with me?_

Dume blasted Kanan’s consciousness with multiple layers of communication. Kanan stumbled through this maze of inhuman thought and managed to absorb the key points:  Dume, a planetary guardian, sensed the Force growing increasingly out of balance long before the Clone Wars. Lothal’s potential to be demolished was very high. Yet the ancients had prophesized the birth of a Force-sensitive child whose energy signature could safely blend with Dume’s embedded presence.  This combined being would protect Lothal.

Drawn to Caleb’s unique and powerful Force signature, the High Council members gained his parents’ blessing and took Caleb to the Coruscant Temple for Jedi training.

Embedded within Caleb, Dume gained direct access to the Jedi and its failing war with the Dark. After Order 66, Kanan’s innate strength of will, backed by Dume’s powerful presence, enabled him to survive the purge that thousands of Jedi did not.  Even during Kanan’s darkest years, Dume absorbed crucial knowledge through his underground existence as a smuggler.  As Kanan realized his destiny had always been intertwined with Lothal, his consciousness lightened.  He also understood more than ever that meeting and falling in love with Hera Syndulla had turned the tide. With Hera as his compass, and Dume at his back, Kanan slowly reclaimed his life’s purpose.

As if called by his thoughts, Hera shuffled into the cave, clutching the Kalikori tightly to her chest.  “Why did I take so long to tell him?”

Kanan had never seen her look so broken. _Hera_. As she wept over his death, blaming herself for it, Kanan desperately tried to envelop her in a tangible embrace, to assure her it had all been his choice.  But she couldn’t feel or hear him. _What is the point of my consciousness being intact if I can’t even help the woman I love?_   Dume didn’t answer. Perhaps the entity considered heartbreak a petty, private matter.

It was Chopper— _Chopper_!-- who comforted Hera when Kanan could not. Kanan felt deep relief he hadn’t reduced the murderous droid to scrap metal all those times it seemed like such a perfect idea. Those early years of shock prods, binary insults, and brutal knee bruises were a small price to pay to both see and sense Hera’s grief ease a little. 

And when Chopper suggested the idea of adding Kanan to Hera’s Kalikori, Kanan wished he could hug the stumpy astromech and apologize (sincerely this time) for letting Zeb gamble him away to Lando _._  

Hera’s grief-filled eyes warmed and softened. “No one deserves that honor more than Kanan.” Those tender words ignited a cascade of joy throughout Kanan’s entire being. Hera was going to make him part of her Ryloth family tree? _Her husband_.  This is what he’d pushed for, what she’d resisted so long because of the war. He knew Hera loved him, everything she shared inside and outside of their intimate moments made her love clear as day. But she had refused to confirm her feelings during any talk of a their long-term future.  Kanan understood now that his usually steadfast Hera had been terrified of losing him the way she’d lost others dear to her heart.  She’d finally made clear her love and desire for a future together with Kanan—then watched as an inferno consumed him.

Kanan enfolded his beloved— _his wife_ \--into his energy and made a vow _.   For whatever time the Cosmic Force grants me, Hera, I will remain to watch over you and our child._

But when Kanan attempted to follow Hera out of the cave, everything abruptly shifted to a purplish, interdimensional night. It was becoming infuriatingly clear to Kanan that he was as embedded with Dume as Dume was with him.  On one hand, this symbiotic relationship kept Kanan’s consciousness from dissipating into the Cosmic Force. On the other hand, Kanan felt like a tick clinging to a bantha—limited to whatever the mighty Dume wanted to do and see.

Speaking of that, what Kanan saw now was a truly enormous Loth-wolf.  _Oh, so_ _this how you choose to appear to mere mortals?  And is that my shoulder pauldron emblem on your forehead?_  

“Kanan?” Looking down, Kanan was alarmed to see Ezra entrapped by the trio of smaller Loth-wolves. 

_YOUR APPRENTICE. PROTECT TEMPLE._

The second mission! Consumed with concern for Hera, Kanan had neglected Ezra’s urgent task. His padawan looked so tiny and vulnerable under Dume’s divine-like scrutiny.   Kanan rushed protectively toward the teen, but it was like slogging through space waffle syrup. _Can’t you see? You’re all just scaring him!  Let_ me _talk to Ezra._

_WE TALK TOGETHER._

_What?_ How was he supposed to talk in tandem with a giant spirit wolf?  With no instructions offered—and apparently no choice--Kanan projected his will through Dume as powerfully as possible, his intent to create words the kid could understand. _I’m here, Ezra. I’ll guide you the best I’m allowed through what is to come._ What emerged:

I AM DUME.

Ezra looked perplexed. Kanan felt the same. _Great._ The ensuing conversation pretty much went downhill from there. Kanan knew Ezra had the inner strength and cunning to carry out the mission, the grief-stricken kid just needed a little reassurance. Instead, he was berated for being afraid. Kanan focused harder, imagining himself moving Dume’s jaws to speak the right words.  _I know you can do this, Ezra. You’re strong in the Force, able to channel Light and Dark like no Jedi I’ve ever known. It’s why this task fell to you._ Dume rumbled:

_FIGHT. TOGETHER._

Ugh!  It was the space waffle syrup all over again. Again and again, Kanan blasted his will through Dume like a foghorn, trying to relay both compassion and the scant details that had been imparted to Kanan previously by the white Loth-wolf.  _The Jedi Temple is in terrible danger from the Emperor, Ezra. You must move quickly, keep its secrets safe or no one in the galaxy will be safe._   Everything boomed out of Dume’s razor-toothed jaws in cryptic fashion.

_KNOWLEDGE. DESTRUCTION._

Kanan didn’t blame Ezra one bit for eyeing the keystone the wolves gave him with befuddlement, but Dume’s frustration built to dangerous levels.  _Hey, you’re not exactly making it easy for him_!  Ignoring Dume’s exasperated sigh, Kanan made a final effort.

_RESTORE PAST. REDEEM FUTURE._

Ezra’s ensuing pleas for help were the last straw. Dume growled and rumbled ominously.   _Don’t hurt him!_  But the gigantic wolf snapped his jaws over Ezra, and everything shifted to blackness.

_Well, that went well._   Kanan floated in the murk, sensing Dume fume all around him. Kanan discovered he retained his own formidable sulking skills.  Dume and Bendu might be godlike Force entities, but they sure shared a short fuse.  Who knows?  Maybe Dume and Bendu were ancient pals—and the reason why Bendu hadn’t blown him out of Attolon’s sky. As far as his puny human mind was concerned, both entities seemed to lack a bit of common sense in some areas.    _Soooo_ , _now what?  In case you’re interested, I have some suggestions that might actually work._

As if in response, Kanan now found himself afloat alongside the white Loth-wolf who had guided him to destroy the TIE Defender program’s fuel supply. The grasslands rippled under the early morning sun.  Following the wolf’s intent gaze, Kanan could see Hera, Ezra, Sabine and Zeb studying the Temple keystone. Kanan felt himself vibrating with relief to see his apprentice so full of purpose again.  _Looks like Dume and I got through to you after all_.  And there was Sabine, head bent closely over the keystone.  Kanan’s energy brightened. _Those two were an unstoppable team_.

When Ezra called the Loth-wolves for a Force-assisted ride to the Temple, Kanan managed to flow alongside the group.  His journey with Hera, Ezra, Sabine and Chopper was bittersweet.  Everyone Kanan cared most about was so close, yet so far away. Every attempt to touch or communicate directly always hit a barrier like unbreakable glass. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could endure it.

**_Ezra 5 ABY_ **

Ezra looked out at the starfield, enjoying his temporary freedom from Thrawn. It was just PZ-5 with him on the shuttle to Ja’Ghar. So much the better.  From the moment he’d found mention of the system in the remnants of information culled during missions on the other destroyed worlds, he’d felt an irresistible pull to explore it. 

Based on the symbols and language decoded by PZ-5 and one of the remaining protocol droids onboard the _Chimera_ , Ja’Ghar appeared to be a religious epicenter for this sector in Wild Space.  Thrawn agreed it was important to investigate the planet for any clues it might still hold on the attacking force. 

As a spiritual hub, Ezra and Thrawn both concurred the attackers had most likely devastated the planet’s artifacts and buildings…but they could have overlooked something vital.  Ezra couldn’t shake the feeling there was something crucially important awaiting his discovery.

“I’ve laid in the coordinates for our landing, Master Ezra.”  PZ-5’s metal hands moved smoothly over the controls.

“Thanks, PeeZee. Stand by, I’m going to proceed with my Jedi witchery.” Ezra winked at the droid before closing his eyes.  Reaching out, he probed for any dangers or other potential circumstances in their path.  Almost immediately, he felt a tug toward a different region of the blue-green world below them.  Eyes still closed, Ezra let his hands take hold of the shuttle’s controls.

“Sir, why are you entering different coordinates?” By her tone, Ezra knew PZ-5 had her head cocked at a puzzled angle.

“I’m picking up on a powerful energy signature.  In that region of waterfalls.” Ezra shivered, felt his consciousness slipping a bit. He focused harder, retaining control.  “Just trust me on this, okay?”

“Well…” The droid reacted as Ezra abruptly slumped.  “Master Ezra, are you all right?”

“Just…stay…on…course…” Ezra’s voice faded as a deep trance took him over.

Ezra knew he was in a dream-like vision, but everything felt intensely real. He floated in a purple black sky, staring up at a familiar, almost absurdly giant Loth-wolf. Dume’s dagger-like teeth flashed as he spoke.

_RESTORE PAST. REDEEM FUTURE._

Ezra frowned, puzzled. _But I’ve already done what you asked.  I opened the Gate to the World Between Worlds. I rescued Ahsoka Tano from Vader. I helped destroy the Jedi Temple to keep its power and secrets from the Emperor._

_AGAIN._

_What? How? The Temple is gone. Who are you, anyway? You have my master’s name, but you’re not really him. Are you?_

CALEB DUME.

Ezra recoiled as fire and heat suddenly raged around him.  _Not again!_ But he was back inside the Imperial gunship gripping Hera.  Both of them stared incredulously while Kanan’s milky, blind eyes brightened back into teal _.  It’s as if the Force itself is looking at me through his eyes._  Then Kanan flung the gunship to safety as he vanished silently into the enormous blast.

The scene suddenly shifted. Ezra lay inside the Imperial drill vehicle, feeling the Jedi Temple shuddering into destruction around them. Bright white light as the Force intensified with unfathomable power. And Kanan’s calm, assuring voice… _The Force will be with you. Always_. It reminded Ezra of the time his blind master saw him through a similar massive explosion of Force energies generated by the colliding Sith and Jedi holocrons.

Bright light dissolved into chilly dawn. Ezra and a sorrowful Hera faced barren ground where the great Temple once stood.  In the distance, the white Loth-wolf stared at Ezra, as if waiting for a signal.   _Goodbye, Kanan._

“Master Ezra? Can you hear me?” Ezra’s eyes popped open to find PZ-5 propping him up in his pilot seat.  “Oh, there you are, sir.”  Warm sunlight filtered in through the viewscreen.  Ezra looked rapidly around, relieved to see the shuttle safely landed.

“How long was I out, PeeZee?” _Breathe. Just breathe_.  Ezra calmed his pumping heart. An intense wave of longing to be back on the _Ghost_ with Kanan, Hera, Sabine, Zeb—even Chopper—nearly overwhelmed him. He took another deep breath. Relax.  _When the time is right, Ahsoka will find me. Sabine will find me._

“Only for a few minutes, sir. You made an interesting comment at the end of your trance.”

“I did?” Ezra hadn’t realized he talked aloud during the visions.

“Yes. You said, ‘I know what to do now.’ What did you mean by that?” The droid watched Ezra jump out of the pilot seat, then trailed behind him on their way to the shuttle’s ramp.

“I don’t know, PeeZee.  But I think I’m about to find out.”

Emerging from the shuttle, Ezra found himself surrounded by mystical, temperate woods.  The tall, slender trees encircled a beautiful body of water that was fed by a magnificent waterfall at one end.  Foaming water cascaded down a jagged cliff, creating a spray of mist below.

The plunging water cut deeply through the upper outcroppings of rock.  The effect resembled towers of a primitive temple jutting skyward.  Keeping the hilt of his lightsaber pike handy, Ezra explored the area, pondering overgrown vegetation that covered a variety of strange shaped lumps under leafy vines and moss.  He approached the largest lump, an angled semicircle that directly faced the waterfall.

“I think there’s some kind of monument under here.”  Ezra gestured for PZ-5 to help him tear away the clinging vines.  Their efforts revealed a tableau carved into a thick block of stone. Ezra’s eyes locked on the glyphs and primal images, excitement rising as he recognized geometric art, kindred in design to the cave paintings he’d seen on Lothal. “PeeZee, what do you make of all this?” 

“It appears the overgrowth disguised a ceremonial site from the invaders, Master Ezra. “These other hidden structures are assembled in a pattern to emphasize this particular tableau.”

“But what do these carvings look like to you?”  Ezra needed to make sure he wasn’t imagining things he wanted to see. 

“Processing, sir.” The tableau’s most prominent series of carvings depicted four different symbols set equally apart along a deep, circular groove. The droid focused silently a moment, scanning internal records for any matches. “It appears to resemble points on a compass.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Ezra touched each symbol in turn:  a square, a sail-shaped triangle, a bowl-shaped semi-circle, and a set of three very slender rectangles, the center one tallest.  PZ-5 cocked her head, observing.

“Sir, based on my data for comparisons, those carvings align with multiple cultural references to the four elements.”

Ezra’s eyes narrowed.  _Yes, of course._   “Let me guess. The square is earth, the bowl is water, the triangle is air…that leaves these rectangles for fire.”  He turned his gaze to the small lake with its foaming waterfall. His heart beat faster.  “Looks like we’re at the water point.”

“It is a logical deduction, Master Ezra.”  PZ-5 gestured at the center of the compass.  Inside, a carved glyph combined all four elemental shapes within a series of interlocking circles.  “This infers a central connection between all four points.”

_I’ve been led to a Temple that might connect to the World Between Worlds!_   Ezra sensed the truth of this resonate deeply within him. _Restore the past. Redeem the future_.  He focused hard on the other three points, then placed his hand on the square.  _Earth._ Ezra could almost see and feel an endless sea of grassy plains, whimsical stone mountains protruding into a soft sky. _Lothal is—_ was _—the earth Temple_.  

The pounding beat of the waterfall resonated in Ezra’s ears like a never-ending drum. Maybe the vegetation wasn’t the only thing hiding something important from the attackers.  _But if that’s the water Temple, how do I get inside?_

Reaching out through the Force, Ezra felt his hand drawn to the center of the tableau’s compass.  He held it there and closed his eyes. Opening his mind fully, Ezra felt the Force flow strongly through him, surging outward in an energetic wave, directly at the plunging waterfall.

Something deep within the rocky cliffs groaned, stone slowly grinding on stone.  The roaring of the waterfall altered with it. Ezra opened his eyes wide, both astonished and gratified at the sight of the waterfall parting like foaming curtains.  The waters churned and plummeted now to either side of a deep and gaping hole in the cliff face, diverted by some unseen mechanism Ezra had activated through the Force.

PZ-5’s blank face somehow managed to look stunned.  “Sir…it’s a cave.” Ezra gazed at the dripping, jagged entrance above them.  It resembled nothing other than the gaping maw of a huge, wolf-like creature.  Stone stairs cut into the cliff face led upward into its darkness.

Ezra’s stomach knotted with eagerness, and a hint of foreboding. _This time, I’m going in prepared_.

**_Thrawn 5 ABY_ **

Thrawn waited patiently while his orders were carried out to the letter. The _Chimaera’s_ tractor beam hauled in a small, derelict asteroid, then anchored it in place near the outer hull of the starship’s main cargo hold.  The unimpressive hunk of rock had been hurtling through the outer regions of a system known as Kkantu according to the surviving records of its massacred inhabitants.

The retrieval team carefully extracted the Republic era beacon found lodged in the asteroid, sterilizing the slim device before bringing it aboard the Star Destroyer.  The team deposited the beacon in Thrawn’s office, then reluctantly departed.  Thrawn had no intentions of allowing anyone else to view the beacon’s data before he analyzed it first.

Thrawn found the decryption code easily enough.  After all, the Republic had become the Empire, so retained prior codes within the Imperial database, whether or not they were still actively used.  Curious to see if this message in a bottle would prove worthy of its retrieval, Thrawn activated the data cube.

The holographic image of an aging Clone War trooper took shape. Thrawn couldn’t see much of the clone’s surroundings, but he appeared to be piloting a fighter craft of unknown alien design.

“My original designation was CC-Five Six Seven Five.  I am a defector of the Grand Army of the Republic. My chosen name is Sulis. I leave this message as an urgent warning for the Senate and the Jedi--or whatever entity may now oversee the civilized galaxy.”  The clone paused, gathering his thoughts. “It is imperative that the Senate heed my words. Do not disregard me because I chose to leave a war that killed so many of my brothers and held no desirable future for any brothers who might survive.”

Thrawn studied the clone’s heavily bearded face and pain-filled eyes. This soldier had sacrificed honor and duty to eke out a bleak existence in Wild Space.  In his last moments, the clone clearly sought to redeem himself.

“Those Separatist clankers we fought by the thousands are a pitiful lot in comparison to the horde raging through these systems.  I don’t know much yet, except they came from outside our galaxy.  I suspect these artificial creatures wiped out whoever was foolish enough to create them in the first place.  What I do know is they are like no enemy I’ve ever faced.  Their only cause seems to be exterminating us organics like we’re a virus to be cleansed from our own galaxy.”

Sulis paused to alter his craft’s course.  “I’m no Jedi like my former general, but my wife, H’ida…was a Force-sensitive healer.  She got part of a message to me before…before they massacred her and the entire settlement while I was off planet to trade wares.”  

The clone wiped his eyes with his blocky hands. “She said they seemed to despise the living for being part of the Force. It’s something they have no ability to understand or connect with--so they destroy what they can’t have.” 

Sulis pressed various buttons, arming his guns. In the tense silence, Thrawn’s mind filtered and stored every bit of information with growing excitement. _I was right. It is not the Yuuzhan Vong._

Sulis spoke again, his voice hard. “The worst part of her message was…these butchering clankers are only clearing the way for more of their kind.”

The clone increased his craft’s speed.  Thrawn absorbed the ominous words.  If this were indeed true, the threat was dire for any system this vanguard targeted.  Thrawn’s thoughts were disrupted as the clone shifted his holo recorder’s direction.  The image now revealed what lay outside CC-5675’s viewscreen. Thrawn’s body stiffened.

A countless multitude of huge, metallic forms careened directly forward.  But these were not starships.  These streamlined entities were inorganic individuals: coldly glowing eyes topped their menacing, humanoid shapes. Every appendage bristled with weaponry.  High intensity energy beams lashed the alien craft mercilessly. 

CC-5675’s voice rose in volume.  “I’m not going to make it back to Coruscant, obviously! But I’ll take out every bastard clanker I can!”  Accompanied by the clone trooper’s war cry, the small craft dove headlong into a dense cluster of the terrifying assailants.  The holographic image abruptly died out.

Thrawn stared at the empty air, brooding.  He slowly realized his fists were clenched so tightly, he’d left nail marks in his blue palms.  Thrawn focused, relaxing his body and mind, allowing his calculations to flow.  One thing was clear. He had no doubt the Vong and this vanguard would take immense pleasure in decimating each other.  However, it was far too risky to lure the vanguard toward the Unknown Regions.  He would have to find a way to lure the Vong to Wild Space.  Not only would his strategy remove the immediate threat to the Chiss Ascendancy, but the Vong would throw themselves against the vanguard…and whatever was following in its wake.

_We must reconnect with the inner galaxy at all costs_. Too much was at stake.

**_Kanan 1 BBY_ **

Kanan now hovered in the dark night some distance from the Jedi Temple, sickened by the sight of its precious arts and knowledge laid out on the ground like butchered meat from a kill.

Yet, he was more concerned about Hera.  She was uncharacteristically fragile, so fearful of losing Ezra and Sabine to the Emperor she wanted to abort the mission.  Instinctively, Kanan reached out to lend his strength and support.  For the first time, Hera’s hand reached upward, her fingers intertwining with his.   _She can feel my presence!_ Every part of Kanan radiated his confidence, his love. _Hera, I’m here with you. I know the kids can do this. Have faith._   Under his touch, Hera relaxed.

Kanan watched alongside Hera and Zeb while Ezra and Sabine stealthily examined the magnificent Temple painting to decipher it and open the Gate.  Sabine’s capture by the minister was a very dicey moment, but Ezra managed to enter the portal.  Kanan attempted to follow—and was yanked back by Dume like a Loth-kitten by its neck.

_STAY._

_Ow. Fine._   Kanan’s prior visions had been hazy about what lay in store for his padawan, but he’d guided Ezra on this mission knowing inside the Temple existed a chance to save Ahsoka from Vader on Malachor.  If rescued, Ahsoka would be a powerful ally to help protect Ezra and the Temple against the Emperor. _She’s certainly more skilled at combat than me._

For now, Kanan contented himself with supporting Hera and Zeb’s rescue of Sabine. _Not that_ those _two need much help_.  In typical _Ghost_ family style, Sabine escaped from the minister with Hera and Zeb in the nick of time to help Ezra close the Gate. It was unclear what happened with Ahsoka, but Kanan felt only gratitude for Ezra’s safe return.  Kanan both sensed and shared Ezra’s deep regret the Temple must be destroyed, but it was the only way to keep power hungry Palpatine out of the Temple’s pathways through time and space.  As the Temple’s energy exploded around them, Kanan called upon Dume to help him shield his family.  The Imperials…well, they weren’t so lucky.

Before Ezra lost consciousness, Kanan channeled love, strength and calm to boy who’d long ago become far more than a padawan to him. _The Force will be with you. Always_.

And rejoiced to know Ezra heard him.

**_Ezra 5 ABY_ **

Carefully treading the last treacherous step, Ezra entered the cave, his movements hampered by his heavy stormtrooper armor and helmet.  Behind him, PZ-5 carried a pack filled with bacta wraps.

Moisture pitter-pattered everywhere, fed by the mist from the waterfall’s parted curtain outside. “Look, PeeZee.” Ezra walked toward the back of the dark cave where deep carvings in the rock glowed with the eerie light of phosphorous microorganisms. He removed his helmet, eyes glittering with excitement.

The array of primal, geometric shapes created three large, bipedal figures, all wearing headdresses decorated in an alien, amphibious style. The hand on the female figure to the left was open to the sky. The tallest, central figure faced forward, his webbed hands stretched out to either side. The figure to the right pointed his closed fist at the ground.

Ezra’s breath escaped him.  “It _is_ a Gate.”  PZ-5 eyed the stone carvings blankly.

“A gate, sir? I see a wall.”  

Ezra grinned at the droid. “Let’s see which one of us is right.” Ezra stood next to the female figure, then placed his gloved hand on the softly glowing stone hand that stretched upward to the sky. 

The bioluminescence intensified, outlining all the figures with eerie light.  Ezra moved away, watching intently while the female lowered her hand and faced the central figure.  He raised his outstretched arms high overhead.  Ezra heard faint voices speaking in a language he couldn’t understand.  Outside, the roar of the waterfall shifted in tone.

On the right side of the cave, a paper-thin sheet of water cascaded from the ceiling mere inches from the wall, creating a continuous, transparent curtain.  The water at the bottom flowed along the stone floor to spill out the cave entrance.   In the cave wall behind the sheet of water, phosphorous light grew brighter and brighter.  It formed the shape of a serpentine, amphibious creature with wolf-like jaws.

Ezra and PZ-5 watched in fascination while the glowing creature circled faster and faster.  Its arc of light reflected in the water’s transparent curtain.  Finally, the creature’s wolf-jaws clamped down on its own tail, creating a wavering, glowing circle within the thin sheet of watery curtain. 

“I…I don’t understand,” droned PZ-5.  “Is it a gate, or isn’t it?”

“It’s a portal, PeeZee, to a place I don’t really have time to explain right now. What I do need you to understand is this:  If I don’t come out of there within three Lothalian rotations, you’re to use the shuttle’s cannons and destroy this cave and everything around it.”

The droid practically staggered.  “What? But why, Master Ezra?”

“Because Thrawn and his Imperial cronies can’t know about this place. Once I’m gone, what you’re going to do first is secretly record all the symbols in this cave and the ones outside with the tableau.  Then you’ll take the shuttle to our original coordinates and complete the mission. If Thrawn calls in, you tell him everything is fine, and we’ll rejoin the Chimaera shortly. Got that?”

“But…I…yes…”

“And if I don’t come out in three rotations, you’ll tell him I attempted to Force connect with some very large Ja’Gharian carnivores, only I must have insulted them because I wound up as dinner.”

“What large carnivores, exactly, sir?”

“Trust me, they’re out there.” He patted his pike hilt.  “Be glad you’re a droid.”  Ezra took the big pack away from PZ-5 and hoisted it onto his back.

“I still don’t understand why you must enter this portal, sir.”

“PeeZee, this is a mission I was given about five years ago, but I couldn’t complete it then. It wasn’t the right time.  But now I think the Force has given me a second chance. If I don’t try, I’m not sure I can live with myself.”  Ezra smiled softly at PZ-5. “Hey, don’t look so glum.  I made it back the last time I did this on Lothal.”

“I…will miss you if you don’t return, Master Ezra.”

Ezra fondly patted the droid’s shoulder. “You’ve been a trusted friend to me, PeeZee.  As a friend, I hope you’ll do me one more favor.”

“I would be honored.”

“If anyone can get the Chimaera back home, it’s Grand Admiral Thrawn.  But if I’m no longer aboard, it’s urgent that you find my friends, Ahsoka Tano and Sabine Wren.  Tell them all the times we’ve shared together, everything we’ve discovered about the invaders.  But the most important thing you must tell Ahsoka and Sabine is that I found this Temple.  Show them your secret recordings. Tell them I did it for Kanan.  And Hera.  Only they can safely know, and only they will understand.  Do you promise?”

PZ-5 nodded solemnly.  “I promise, Master Ezra.”  Ezra nodded solemnly in return.

“Thank you, my friend.” Ezra’s face lit up with a smile. “Remember, I plan to be back. For now, enjoy playing spy droid. I know how much you like it.”

PZ-5 waggled a finger at him. “I cannot argue with you on that point.”

Ezra put his helmet back on, settled his pack.  He gently pushed his gloved hand through the sheet of water, felt the portal give under his touch. “See you soon, PeeZee.” And then Ezra slipped through the glowing circle…and vanished.

PZ-5 stared, processing. “It is indeed a gate.” The swirling serpentine figure slowed to a stop but stayed aglow. “Very well. Now commencing recordings and Lothalian rotation countdown.”

Inside the portal, Ezra found himself in an interdimensional place almost identical to the one he’d explored in the Lothal Temple.  Both strange and familiar voices echoed around him while he walked the twisting pathways.  There were differences.  The pathways rose and fell much more steeply, more frequently circling upside down.  Ezra had no trouble falling off, everything around him shifted to his own perspective. The portals were more primitive in design, some vaguely disturbing. Other dimly lit portals made Ezra’s skin crawl as he walked by.

_How do I find the portal to Kanan_? He’d been avoiding this question as he’d grabbed his various supplies from the shuttle for the pack.  The Daughter’s bird had guided him to Ahsoka.  The portal to Kanan before had only been a trap set by the Emperor, one that Ezra had barely avoided thanks to Ahsoka’s intervention. _Well, now the Emperor’s dead. He can’t try_ that _again._

Ezra searched the surrounding starfield, searching for the Wolf constellation.  He was surprised to find it in the “sky” much farther back.  He didn’t recall seeing it earlier. He turned back, walking faster.  _At least it will be closer to my exit_. Ezra listened more carefully, ears tuned to the distinctive sound of Kanan among the echoing voices. And then Ezra heard it, deep and soft.

_Nobody ever pays enough attention to the world around them._

The voice came from a portal with artwork on top that reminded Ezra of the Lothalian cave paintings.  It was a small figure, likely a child, surrounded by radiating lines.  The circle of the portal itself depicted the open jaws of a very large wolf.  _Okay, I get it, this has to be the one._   But something inside him now hesitated to proceed.  Ezra knew Kanan’s sacrifice would be worthless if he was pulled away before the gunship was hurled to safety.  Everyone on board would die in the explosion, and Ezra wouldn’t even exist to be here now. And if Kanan didn’t die, his spirit--his will--wouldn’t have been able to guide Ezra via Dume through those three days to ensure the Jedi Temple disappeared from the Emperor.  _I told PeeZee I know what to do now. But do I really?_ Was it the Force at work here, or his own wishful thinking for a second chance?

_The future, by its nature, can be changed._

Ezra froze.  He recognized that immortal voice.  It was the Son from the Gate.  It had been this same voice who asked Ezra not so long ago:  _Is your master truly dead?_ But, if the Son was guiding him now instead of the Daughter…was it a good thing?  The Son represented the Dark side.  And yet…if the Force was balanced between Light and Dark, and needed both to exist…was the Dark innately evil?  After all, the Son spoke through his “nature channel.”  In Ezra’s experience, most of nature and its animals, including more sentient creatures like the Loth-wolves and purrgil, did not seem to exist for one side of the Force over another.  If they were part of the balance, didn’t it stand to reason he must be tapping into both Light and Dark to communicate with them?

_Is your master truly dead?_ The voice and its question echoed again around Ezra.  But what Ezra sensed was the Light had opened a portal on Lothal…and now the Dark wanted its turn here on Ja’Ghar.  A balance.  If this meant Kanan could be saved like Ahsoka, so be it.  And with that thought, Ezra’s mind cleared, and he realized that he _had_ known all along exactly what to do.  Ezra set down his pack, opening it to pull out the bacta wraps.  He adjusted his helmet, gloves, and armor, making sure everything was secure. 

He stood before the portal, reaching out calmly with his mind. _If this is the will of the Force, you will open._

The circular wolf mouth began to glow, brighter and brighter.  Inside the portal, intense heat and flames.  And just visible through the inferno, Ezra could see Kanan from behind.  His master had already turned his face toward the gunship, one hand stretched to hold back Hera, the other splayed before Ezra to keep the intense fire at bay.

Ezra didn’t need to see Kanan’s face.  This scene was burned into his memory forever.  In just a moment, the Force would fill Kanan so completely, its healing energy would regenerate his milky eyes to blue-green.  That healing power should protect Kanan  enough from what Ezra was about to do. But he had to wait, just a moment longer…wait for Kanan to turn completely… to shove away the gunship.  And in that next fraction of a second, if Kanan slumped, it meant he’d projected his consciousness outward before the explosion could ignite his body with agony…Yes! There he goes--NOW!!!

Ezra grabbed Kanan through the portal, the intense, raging inferno searing his gloves and armor.  Ignoring the pain, Ezra yanked Kanan’s inert body back into the interdimensional realm, out of time and space.  Heat and light and fire blasted, then the portal closed.  Ezra fought unconsciousness, calling upon the Force for strength. With shaking hands, Ezra lay Kanan on the pathway, then clumsily cocooned Kanan’s singed body in bacta wraps.  Gently wrapping Kanan’s head and scorched fringes of hair, Ezra managed a weak smile.  “Good thing you already shaved most of that off.”

Ezra dragged off his helmet, grimacing at the agony in his hands.  He slowly peeled off his damaged gloves and armor, relieved to find none of it melted to his skin.  Wrapping the remaining bacta wraps around his lower arms and hands, Ezra sank back with a shaky sigh. He let the soothing mixture ease the worst of the pain.  Kanan remained unmoving next to him, the slow rise and fall of his chest the only proof he was still alive.

Ezra unwrapped the fingers of his right hand to carefully open the lid of Kanan’s nearest eye.  Vivid teal stared back at him.  Ezra felt tears well, and he gently closed Kanan’s lid.  He rewrapped his hand, then completely broke down into sobs of relief.  A nagging part of his mind reminded him:  _Kanan still needs his essence back_.   _What if he can’t find his body?_ Ezra shoved that away, giving thanks to the Force for his success so far.  He whispered a thank you to the Son as well.

Ezra realized he had no way of knowing how much time was passing in the outside world.  Perhaps it had been one Lothalian rotation already.  And he needed to get Kanan into a bacta tank as soon as possible.  Then, scattered through the intermittent voices always echoing in the World Between Worlds, Ezra suddenly heard Zeb say, “What do you mean gone?”

_Listen_.  Ezra emptied his mind, reaching out.  “I thought we had more time.” _Hera._  

And then it was Sabine, “I agree with you, but only because we can’t let that thing track us back to our base.”

“It talks with its eyes.” Zeb again.

And so their voices periodically faded in and out, giving Ezra clues as to how much time was passing.  It also reminded him how greatly he missed them all. With a weary start, he realized he better move Kanan to the Ja’Gharian portal before time ran out and PZ-5 blew the cave apart.

Ezra’s hands had recovered enough to heave Kanan up.  He dragged Kanan by walking backward; it was ungainly, hard work, with Kanan’s bootheels trailing behind on the twisting pathways.  _Right now, I sure wish you were a lot shorter, Master_.  Ezra stopped for a rest every now and again, listening intently for the voice clues.  When the Ja’Gharian portal came into view, Ezra hauled Kanan with renewed energy.

Several steps away from the portal, he heard Sabine say, “That one! The Son!”  Ezra frantically pulled Kanan along.  It was almost the third dawn on Lothal, and Ezra’s time was running out.

“The Force will be with you. Always.” _Kanan_.  Time was speeding up! Ezra winced in pain, fumbling as he almost dropped Kanan.

“He’s gone now, isn’t he? I mean, really gone.” Hera’s sad, resigned voice echoed around him. Ezra toppled backwards through the portal, yanking Kanan along with him.  As the duo hit the cold and wet stone floor…the cave began to shake. Recharged by the sheet of chilly water, Ezra blinked upwards to see the circling serpentine creature slow and dim as the bioluminescence in the cave wall behind died out.  The cave shuddered harder.

“No, PeeZee, not yet!”  But Ezra’s commlink had been fried with his armor.  The sheet of water cut off like a closed faucet.  Desperate, Ezra Force-pushed Kanan’s body along the slippery wet floor as gently as he could.  “Sorry, Kanan!”  Ezra stumbled toward the cave entrance, shouting wildly.  He stuck his head out of the entrance, the bright sunshine hurting his eyes.  “PeeZee, stop!!”  Except, there was no attacking shuttle outside.  Ezra saw the _Lambda_ parked at a distance, the engines starting to fire.  Ezra waved his arms desperately…and sagged with relief as PZ-5 waved back from the cockpit.

But the shaking was still intensifying.  All the figures on the back wall went ominously dark. _Why is this happening? I didn’t close the Gate_. And then it hit him.  _I pulled Kanan out of a different portal._  Ahsoka hadn’t come with Ezra back on Lothal for her own reasons. _Well, a little heads up from the Son would have been nice!_  Too late for that now. The groan of rock sliding on rock disrupted his thoughts.  The waterfall curtains started to cascade inward.  Ezra grabbed Kanan--and jumped off the cliff, splashing into the foaming water below.  Still underwater, he dragged Kanan along, headed for the surface as far as possible from the incoming torrent.  Ezra broke the surface, gasping for air. 

“Master Ezra!  Are you all right?” PZ-5 had hustled to the shoreline.  Ezra plowed through the water, keeping Kanan’s head above water. _I sure hope he’s still breathing_.  How ironic to save his master from fire only to drown him instead!  Behind them, the jagged spires of the Temple collapsed inward, chunks flying.  Ezra Force-blocked a few smaller particles that plummeted directly at them.  By then, PZ-5 reached out and Ezra shoved Kanan into her arms. “PeeZee—meet Kanan Jarrus!” The perplexed droid goggled, managing a nod.

“We must get up the ramp immediately, sir!”  Ezra PZ-5 propped the blissfully unconscious Jedi master between them.  Several of the bacta wraps hung loose, fluttering as the trio escaped up the ramp of the shuttle.   

Inside the cockpit, Ezra leapt into the pilot seat, launching the shuttle skyward in a steep turn just as the Ja’Ghar Temple blew its top like a water-filled volcano.  The shuttle barely missed the tremendous flood of water and rocky debris.  It soared up and away, spattered with mud and droplets.

**_Kanan 1 BBY_ **

Kanan hovered, watching Ezra and Hera where they stood in the distance, surrounded by barren, beautiful landscape where the Jedi Temple once stood.  Next to Kanan, shrouded in the misty light, was the white Loth-wolf.  It glanced from Kanan to the others, silently waiting.   _For what_?

Feeling uneasy, Kanan tried to move closer to embrace the two,  but the relentless tugging increased dramatically.  And there was no responding anchor against it from Dume.

_WE MUST GO._

_No!  Let me stay. They could finally feel me, hear me_.

_STAY AND VANISH.  OR GO TOGETHER_.

And then, with an undertone of respect:  _YOUR CHOICE_.

All this time since the explosion, Kanan had felt himself pushed and pulled, fighting upstream to accomplish what his will had desired.  Yet, here his family was. Safe. And he sensed Hera and the others were going to be okay…or as okay as any war would ever let a family be. 

Dume said it was his choice, but Kanan decided it would be _their_ choice.  Like the white wolf, he waited.  In the distance, Hera gently touched her shoulder. “He’s gone now, isn’t he?  I mean, really gone.”  Kanan twisted inward, barely hearing anything again until Ezra’s voice cut through with its reluctant resignation.

“Goodbye, Kanan.”

Kanan hung there in the dawn’s light for a moment.  He expected to feel sorrow wash over him, but their ultimate acceptance eased an inner ache he didn’t even know he’d had.  Did he really want to remain here, not even a ghost of himself?  If they could accept his departure, so could he.

Whatever Dume or the Cosmic Force now needed of him--if anything--he would do it.  His time here was complete, and Kanan let go with simple gratitude for all the love he’d been able to share with those whose time had not yet come.

Beside him, the white Loth-wolf melted away into the rising sun.  And Kanan’s consciousness abruptly tumbled and spun, released from Lothal to spin faster and faster into a blazing kaleidoscope of time and space---

_\--Bright light, so bright it hurt to look_.  Kanan squinted, his eyes desperately working to focus. He was floating, floating in…a bacta tank?  He convulsed reflexively, sucked air through the respirator, almost gasping as his startled heart kicked into overdrive.  Through the thick liquid, he could hear alarms sounding.  Suddenly, intense blue eyes pressed up to the tank wall.  A young man with dark hair, a goatee, and a growing smile on his face.  _Ezra._

“Kanan?” Ezra’s eyes widened and he placed both hands on the permasteel glass, the closest thing to a hug he could give. Ezra’s thoughts were written all over his face: Kanan is… _Kanan_!

Feeling trapped in the tank, Kanan called upon the Force to center himself with peace and calm.  It wasn’t easy.  Intense emotions seared through him like the inferno that had taken— _nearly taken_ —his life.  Kanan had presumed all along it was the Cosmic Force tugging away on him, but it had turned out to be his own not-so-dead body.  Leave it to Dume to keep him in the dark about the Force granting him a second chance.  Then again, maybe Dume hadn’t wanted to raise false hopes.  Ezra had succeeded despite almost impossible odds.

Kanan would be with Hera again. _And he’d be staying on that Kalikori_.  He would finally meet their child, be a father.  Kanan was returning to everyone and everything he loved. On top of all these miracles, he’d been restored the gift of sight.  Salty tears blended with the fluid surrounding him.  And then the med droid injected a solution, sinking Kanan into a deep healing sleep.

**_Ezra and Thrawn 5 ABY_ **

Thrawn paced his office, striving for calm, but these were certainly the most unusual of circumstances.

“Commander Bridger, how does a Jedi Knight who died five years ago—in an explosion that derailed my TIE Defender program, I might add--wind up in my ship’s bacta tank out on the edges of Wild Space?”  Before Ezra could speak, Thrawn snapped out, “And why should I let him stay in it?”

Thrawn’s eyes flamed so red, Ezra almost expected them to catch fire.  Ezra folded his arms, finding himself abnormally peaceful.

“I actually have a question for your first, Grand Admiral.  Do you ever wonder why the purrgil dumped us out here together?”

“What does that have to do with my inquiry? You know full well you deceived those weak-minded creatures into doing your Rebel warfare. “

“I had zero mind control over them or where they brought us. I’m sure you’ve noticed they haven’t come back.”  Now Thrawn’s glare turned icy.  Ezra shrugged his shoulders.

“So here we are…by the will of the Force, not so conveniently discovering a huge threat to the galaxy.” Ezra held up his hand to hold off a retort from Thrawn.  “And also through the will of the Force, a ‘poorly trained child’—that would be me--pulled Kanan through time and space thanks to a convenient space anomaly right where PZ-5 and I happened to be.”

Thrawn stopped pacing. “I don’t believe a word of your ‘space anomaly’ explanation, Bridger. It is absolutely ludicrous and entirely undocumented.”

“Fine. Then I’ll stop talking about it.  You can’t deny my master is here and very much alive. It seems very obvious to me the Force thinks the galaxy—and you—need Kanan and me back together.  Don’t tell me you can’t find an efficient use for two Jedi in those big plans you’re cooking up to wow the Chiss Ascendancy.”

Thrawn’s eyes penetrated Ezra for a very long moment.  Ezra could almost see the wheels within wheels turning.

“Oh, indeed I can.”  Thrawn’s lips curved ever so slightly.  “And I will.” He gestured at the door. _Dismissed._

Ezra turned to leave, then a thought occurred to him.  “You don’t happen to have any other lightsa—” Thrawn cut in smooth as silk.

“Kanan Jarrus will have to earn it first.”

Ezra departed, feeling a bit less peaceful. Perhaps substantially less peaceful.

**_Kanan 5 ABY_ **

Kanan rested quietly in the medical bay, still adjusting to not being dead while savoring the visual details of everything around him.  Even the bossy XT-92 med droid didn’t annoy him _too_ much.  Some areas of his skin needed further healing, but most had returned to its light russet brown color.

Closing his eyes, he could still tune in his highly developed Force-sight. He’d need to actively use it to make sure his advanced abilities didn’t weaken.  He looked up as Ezra came in, clutching a cup of caf.  “Sorry…I’d get you some, but that hovering droid won’t allow it.” 

“I think saving my life pretty much makes up for it.” Kanan’s mouth quirked.

Ezra plopped down next to Kanan’s bed with a sigh, his blue eyes darkened with shadows. “Yeah, well, I’m not so sure I’ve done you any favors, Kanan. We’re stuck out here with Thrawn, one step behind a new enemy that could shred this ship like a rabid Loth-wolf. “

“Ezra.  Being here--even for a moment--to see the man you’ve become…it’s worth any danger.” 

Ezra ducked his head, cheeks flushed.  Kanan gripped Ezra’s forearm, feeling the Force resonate between them.  “Always remember. We are the balance, Ezra. We are supposed to be here now. Where Lothal needs us most.”

Ezra lifted his gaze back to Kanan, brightening again.  “Yes, Master.”

Kanan’s lips curved.  “You know, I’d say you’ve grown waaay past the apprentice stage.”

“Are you saying…you’re no longer my Master?” Ezra’s brow furrowed.

“More like I’m sensing the Force reunited us to become a new kind of team.  We’ll just have to figure it out as we go along—like we’ve always done.” 

Ezra’s thoughtful expression eased into a teasing smile.  “Well, don’t get too bossy about it. You’re not all that much older than me anymore.”  Ezra’s grin widened.  “I just realized—won’t you be a little younger than Hera now?”

_Hera._ Kanan’s heart swelled with an almost unbearable longing to hold her-- _and their five-year-old!--_ tightly in his arms and never let go. He forced the lump in his throat down with a laugh. “And I look forward to reminding her of that every day.”   

Ezra’s grin slipped away.  “I wish I could tell you when we’ll make it home.”  The unspoken _if we’ll make it home_ hung silently between the two Jedi. 

Kanan sighed deeply, then his somber expression shifted into his signature smirk. “Hey, at least it’ll give me time to grow my hair out.”

**_Lothal 5 ABY_ **

Jacen Syndulla skipped along the beach, trailing behind his mother and Aunt Sabine.  The sea lapped gently against the sand and stonier outcroppings.  Jacen zigzagged among scattered debris washed up by yesterday’s unusually fierce storm, searching for pirate treasures hidden in the kelp and rocks.  _Hondo will be so jealous_!  The breeze blew Jacen’s bright green bangs into his eyes and he flipped his hair aside with a grin. Although sometimes he wished he had long, curving lekku like Grandfather Cham, Jacen felt nothing but pride whenever anyone said he looked like his father.  _I’m the son of a Jedi Knight._

“Jacen, don’t run off too far,” Mama called out. She and Aunt Sabine stood looking back at a gleaming, spiral form that stretched into the blue sky.  Mama had explained Aunt Sabine worked with others on the City Council to build a memorial to Lothal’s freedom from the Empire.  They’d come for a few rotations to join other family and friends for the grand opening.  Jacen liked any excuse to visit Aunt Sabine.  She told great stories about all her explosive adventures. Plus, there was supposed to be a huge party.

“Okay, Mama!” Jacen really did mean to obey her _this_ time, but then he saw huge Loth-wolf prints in the damp sand.  He knew immediately those led to something exciting.  Making sure Mama’s pretty face was turned away, Jacen dashed off. _Oh, yeah, he’d have plenty to tell Hondo later today._

Jacen followed the tracks around a mound of sea-rusted permasteel.  _I bet this is from the dome that got blown up in the sky._   That was one of his favorite stories, especially when Uncle Zeb told it.  But right now, he was more interested in the pit the Loth-wolf had dug.  Avoiding all the piled-up sand, Jacen slipped into the damp hole.  And landed on a storage container.  It was pretty banged up, but still shut tight.  _I wonder what’s inside?_   Jacen lay his hand against the lock.  He closed his eyes…and reached out with his mind to open it.

Huddled together in private conversation, Hera and Sabine didn’t see the feisty five-year-old disappear behind the washed-up wreckage.  “Truthfully, I’m not sure what to do, Sabine.  Just the other day, Jacen managed to lock Zeb _and_ Kallus in the cargo hold.  About five minutes after I left.” 

Sabine stifled a smile. “I’m pretty sure Chopper played a role in that.” 

Hera managed a wan chuckle. “But he’s always knowing things he shouldn’t, getting into places and things that should be beyond him.”

Sabine gestured at the _Liberation of Lothal_ spire. “You have to admit, his parents happen to be well known troublemakers.”  The two women shared a wry grin before Hera’s expression tightened again.

“I know. But now that’s Jacen’s getting older, the safest thing seems to send him to stay with the few other Force sensitive younglings. He could learn from Luke…but then I’d hardly see him.” Hera’s graceful hands clenched.  “I’m just not ready for that.”

Sabine eyed Hera with concern. “Are Jacen’s Force abilities becoming a danger to himself or others?”  Hera sighed.

“He got teased again the other day for not looking Twi’lek enough. Jacen didn’t hurt the boy…but he did Force push the toy they were arguing about hard enough to stick in the wall.”  Hera’s lekku slumped. “If only Kanan or Ezra were here to teach him.”

“Hera, there may be other options.” Sabine tried to contain her excitement. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet. Ahsoka Tano is returning soon.”

“Ahsoka’s coming back? That’s, that’s…welcome news” Hera smiled, recalling the Togruta with both fond and bitter memories. “But she’s not a Jedi anymore, is she?”

Sabine planted her hands on her hips. “Hera, she’s a Force wielder…Surely, she can at least offer some useful advice about Jacen.” Sabine did not add _before Ahsoka and I go looking for Ezra_.  She would share that significant news with Hera and the others later.

“Yes, of course, you’re right, Sabine.” Hera squeezed Sabine’s shoulder. “Speaking of my son, where did that little Loth-rat go?”  Hera and Sabine scanned around, calling out Jacen’s name.  Hera now spied the Loth-wolf paw prints leading away.  “Jacen!”

Distant movement caught Sabine’s eye and she pointed. “There he is, he just jumped on top of that wreckage.”  She and Hera rushed toward Jacen, relief on their faces.

Hera beckoned imperiously. “Jacen Caleb Syndulla, you get down from there before you fall through!”

Jacen waved back from his precarious perch with a gap-toothed grin. Then, he ignited the lightsaber upraised in his hand.  The brilliant blue blade stopped Hera and Sabine in their tracks. “Is that Kanan’s…?” Sabine’s voice choked up.

Hera’s own voice tried to scream, cry and laugh at the same time. “Jacen?!”  Her legs unfroze, and she raced across the last of the sand just as Jacen jumped down with a flourish of the humming blade. 

He switched off the lightsaber, placing it obediently in Hera’s commanding hand.  “Better put it somewhere safe, Mama.” Jacen looked off into a distance only he could see and smiled. “I think Daddy’s going to need it back.”


	2. A Tangled Web We Weave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catching up on Kanan, Ezra, and Thrawn on the Chimaera, plus Hera, Sabine and Ahsoka on Lothal after a short passage of time from Chapter 1. Lots of entangling thoughts and threads as we get some idea of where Ahsoka's been, what Thrawn's plotting, and how Ezra and Kanan are keeping the Grand Admiral on his toes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is another pretty long chapter, but hope it makes up for the wait since March, oops. Thanks to all who are rejoining the tale and welcome to any newbies! I hope nothing will be too repetitive or confusing. Enjoy the shenanigans :-)
> 
> A big shout of gratitude to @veritascara for catching all my ridiculous typos and goofed up names, plus for the excellent suggestions!!

**Chapter 2 - A Tangled Web We Weave  
5 ABY**

**Thrawn - _Chimaera_**

Thrawn slowly circled his desk as the enlarged display of the _Chimaera’s_ secondary hanger emitted from the holoprojector. His gaze intensified as the focal point zoomed in on Ezra Bridger, trapped within a trio of hovering training droids. Moving with fluid grace, Bridger deflected an intense volley of crimson bolts by whirling the bright yellow blades of his pike from side to side.

“Ezra!” The image widened to reveal Kanan Jarrus, eyes closed, who evaded a flurry of laser fire while bounding acrobatically from one Lambda shuttle to another. The five training droids in pursuit dove ever closer to their elusive target.

Following the Jedi’s nimble movements, the Grand Admiral noted with satisfaction that Jarrus was wearing the same type of makeshift uniform he’d imposed upon Bridger years ago: A light grey Imperial boilersuit, utility belt, blaster holster, and polished, black knee boots. It had allowed for ample freedom of movement, while enabling Bridger to blend in--at least aesthetically--with the Star Destroyer’s crew. Although Bridger had been forbidden any insignia or emblem related to the Jedi or Rebellion, Thrawn never forced his “military guest” to don the Imperial Crest. Indeed, the ongoing arrangement became a tacit reminder of their fragile alliance. With Jarrus now aboard, it remained to be seen how much the reunited Jedi duo would chafe under Thrawn’s strict command.

In the holovid, Bridger deactivated his pike just before hurling it directly at Jarrus. The older Jedi caught the hilt, igniting the twin blades as he flipped backwards to face off against the manically swirling droids. Deflected energy beams flashed in all directions.

On the ground, Bridger fired away on his blaster--his remaining two droids shorted out in a spray of sparks. As Bridger leaped to join his Jedi master on the shuttle, Jarrus flung the still blazing pike directly into Bridger’s path.

Without missing a beat, Bridger caught the spinning hilt, then landed on the shuttle’s roof with a dramatic flourish. Two droids sizzled loudly as the pike blades made brutal contact. The surviving droids’ laser bolts ricocheted throughout the hanger like fireworks gone astray.

With a flip of his left hand, Jarrus Force-pushed his three energy spewing droids hard enough to clatter against the far side of the hanger. Eyes still closed, Jarrus grabbed the blaster from his holster to finish off the hapless trio with dead center stun shots.

In the sudden silence, Bridger ruefully nudged the two slightly smoking droids at his feet. “Looks like an exciting evening of droid repairs.”

Jarrus’ eyes finally opened while his mouth twisted into a sideways smile. “At least there’s something left to fix this time. The Grand Admiral must have ordered a few upgrades.” The Jedi spun his blaster before shoving it back into the holster, then gave a sardonic salute in the direction of the holo recording lens. He called out with mock cheer, “Nice try! We need faster, more intense!”

Thrawn’s narrowed eyes shifted across the room to his only companion, Cri Braruz, a young, female Devaronian. Visible through the holovid’s dim light, Braruz’s pink skin looked almost gray, while the horn buds on her brow appeared nearly as dark as the purple hair under her snug science officer’s cap. She quickly pressed one of the projector controls. The holovid abruptly froze, capturing Jarrus and Bridger in the middle of sharing amused grins.

“What is the status of your preliminary report on Kanan Jarrus, Lieutenant Braruz?”

“I’m still compiling the data, Grand Admiral. I will include the relevant findings from the medbay. Per your orders, I will also continue to personally schedule and oversee the Jedi training sessions…provided we have your ongoing permission to use the secondary hanger, of course.” Braruz gestured at the frozen image, her dark purple eyes lowered deferentially.

Thrawn nodded his approval. “Of course. I surmise you have some information of consequence you wish to relay regarding our unexpected military guest?”

“Yes, sir. One moment.” Braruz swiftly picked up a data pad to tap efficiently at its keys. Thrawn had yet to regret handpicking the eager Devaronian from a roster of alien recruits shortly before destroying the rebel base at Atollon. He’d directly ignored his colleagues’ derisive opinions, intrigued by the rarity of a female of that species dedicating herself not only to spacefaring, but to an isolated existence within the human-centric Imperial Navy. Thrawn’s instincts had been quickly vindicated by Braruz’s scientific mind and utter loyalty to him. Like Commodore Faro, the Devaronian had proven herself worthy of Thrawn’s rare trust; during the campaign to eradicate the Phoenix and Lothalian rebels, he’d assigned Braruz to thoroughly analyze and collect additional data for his archives on Jedi lore.

When Faro and so many of his officers regrettably perished on the crippled _Chimaera_ , Thrawn promoted Braruz, ordering her to research Bridger’s Force abilities as thoroughly and surreptitiously as possible. Bridger immediately caught on to the various machinations--and still complained of being _“Thrawn’s Loth-rat under a microscope.”_ Over time, however, the young Jedi mainly ignored the lieutenant’s observations, focusing instead on questionable attempts to engage Braruz in winsome conversation. Thrawn suspected Bridger’s lurid tales featuring Devaronian smugglers, geriatric Weequay pirates, and high-strung puffer pigs were expressly intended to elicit his own teeth grinding upon review of said recordings.

Braruz’s faintly accented voice disrupted Thrawn’s inner musings. “This is only our third session since Jarrus’ release from the medbay, but I can confirm the Jedi has retained possession of at least the most obvious, previously documented Force-related abilities in your files.” She counted on her sharp-nailed fingers. “Precognition, hyper-reflexive defenses, telekinesis…As usual, I will use data extracted from the training droids to calculate the degree of force applied on relevant maneuvers.”

“Excellent, Lieutenant.”

“I can also confirm that Jarrus’ presence aboard the _Chimaera_ has kindled a highly enthusiastic response in Bridger, resulting in a measurable increase in the strength and application of the padawan’s own skills during all trainings.”

Thrawn briefly assessed the image of the two Jedi dispassionately, his hands crossed against his lower back. Even motionless and almost colorless in the holovid, the reunited Jedi master and padawan made a visually striking--very dangerous--pair. Thrawn was unexpectedly reminded of Sabine Wren’s artwork of Lothal’s wildlife. Despite adding four centimeters to his height earlier in the voyage, Bridger’s form remained wiry and compact, his agile movements and capricious temperament those of an unpredictable Loth-cat. In direct contrast, Jarrus called to mind the more supple Loth-wolf, serenely languid on the surface, yet capable of cunning savagery in an instant.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I would have been surprised to hear anything otherwise. You will continue to analyze both of our guests’ Force abilities while overseeing their safety and comfort aboard. I trust you placed Jarrus’ quarters close to Bridger’s and your own?”

“Yes, sir.” Braruz opened her mouth to speak, hesitated.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant.” He noted that Braruz’ face flushed a deeper pink as she manipulated the holovid to zoom in on the taller Jedi.

“Sir, my service droids have recordings during the past two sleep shifts that Jarrus has left his quarters to wander the corridor in an…aimless manner. The Jedi’s eyes were closed, but it appeared he was listening to something the droids could not pick up on their sensors. Each time, Jarrus came to an abrupt stop, opened his eyes, and immediately returned to his compartment.”

“Hm. Are there any medical restrictions still in effect on Jarrus?”

“No, sir, the doctors confirmed he is fully recovered. They also stated the Jedi’s eyes were intact and functional prior to submersion in the medbay’s bacta tank, sir.” She paused, biting her lip. “Jarrus is in prime physical condition, with a biological age reported at approximately thirty-two to thirty-three standard years. Based on information available in your archives, sir, Jarrus should be five years older.” Braruz eyed Thrawn, a furrow appearing between her horn-nubs.

“Indeed, Lieutenant.” Thrawn studied the insolent expression on Jarrus’ angular face. The last time he’d seen the Jedi at close range on Atollon, most of Jarrus’ features were obscured by a solid mask and full beard, but all intel indicated the Jedi had been completely blinded at least several months previously. Thinking of Atollon reminded Thrawn of the infuriatingly enigmatic Bendu creature--yet another frustratingly indefinable, Force-related mystery Braruz was researching. _Yes, if there was a silver lining to being stranded by the purrgil, it would be to take full advantage of the two Jedi specimens onboard and scrutinize the Force in great depth._ Time and circumstances had not permitted such invaluable research with Anakin Skywalker (and certainly not with his Sith Lord alter ego, Darth Vader) during past missions on Batuu. However, doing so necessitated placing increasing trust in his Devaronian protege.

“Commander Bridger claims to have pulled his master through time and space via an anomaly encountered in the Ja’Gharian system.” Thrawn watched keenly as Braruz’ eyes blinked, then gleamed with intense, scientific curiosity.

“Your additional orders, Lieutenant, are to access the restricted files in my Jedi archives to piece together how a human obliterated by a multitude of exploding fuel pods on Lothal is now standing on my Star Destroyer--and in better condition than _before_ the catastrophe.”

“Understood, sir.” Braruz swallowed. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

He nodded curtly. “You will replay this entire recording. However, this time adjust the image to focus on the background instead.”

“Right away, sir.” A familiar furrow appeared between the Devaronian’s horn nubs.

During the rewatch, Thrawn’s mind sifted rapidly through potentials that featured Jarrus and Bridger as assets to be exploited for the greater good. One led to gleaning all information that might possibly enable the few Force-sensitives born among the Chiss to retain their full powers beyond childhood. With each passing day, Thrawn increasingly agonized over the fate of his entire people while he remained completely in the dark as to their vulnerability to the Grysk. Had the treacherous species incited full civil war among the Ascendancy? If so, had they already used the opportunity to overtake Chiss territory? And had the Empire’s access to the Unknown Regions been thwarted by blocking the few stable hyperspace lanes?

 _Indeed, what of the Empire’s state of existence?_ Palpatine had demonstrated Force powers that enabled him to sense and plot against threats rising across great distances…yet the Sith Lord had sent no rescue party--not even a drone--to the _Chimaera’s_ aid these many years. _Perhaps Palpatine wants me dead._ Certainly, none of the other fleet admirals would shed any tears if he remained missing from the Imperial arena. _I must reestablish communications with the Emperor. Better yet, a more trusted ally, Eli Vanto._ To this end, perhaps the two Jedi could be coerced to combine their precognitive abilities to safely navigate the Star Destroyer into more familiar galactic territory. Thrawn would then ascertain if Bridger and Jarrus were prisoners of war to be triumphantly relinquished to Palpatine…or if the uniquely skilled duo would remain as Thrawn’s military guests to be rerouted to the Chiss Ascendancy. _They could earn their freedom by serving as useful allies against the Grysk._

As for adversaries, the immediate concern remained this unfamiliar foe in Wild Space. Here, the Jedi’s strong connection to the Force was a tantalizing, potential tactic to lure the hostiles toward the Vong and the Grysk. However, this would require a strategy that endangered neither the Chiss nor the Empire. Thrawn repressed a frustrated sigh. It was only a matter of time and analysis of the data collected in their journey. He’d yet to encounter an entity without a weakness to control or contain it. Surely this extra-galactic vanguard was no exception. Satisfied with his analysis for the moment, Thrawn refocused on the ongoing holovid display.

“Hold, Lieutenant. Now project this section at quarter speed.”

“Aye, sir.” In the holovid, a variety of crew members skulked throughout the hanger, eyeballing the Jedi duo’s supernatural grace and skill during the grand finale of training droid demolition. Scanning the slow flow of facial expressions before him, Thrawn’s mind swiftly sorted and filed away distinct groups for contemplation. Those few who watched the Jedi train with jaws dropped in almost superstitious awe. The majority, who observed with a mixture of reluctant respect and unease. And…

Thrawn glanced sharply at Braruz. “Freeze.” The Devaronian complied, capturing a trio of off duty stormtroopers whose watching eyes simmered with unsuppressed hostility. Thrawn’s lips pressed together in a thin line.

“Lieutenant, alert me immediately of any crew member who exhibits aggressive behavior toward either Ezra Bridger or Kanan Jarrus.” Thrawn tapped data into a console on his desk. “I reprimanded these obdurate stormtroopers during the early stages of our journey.” His red eyes glowered at Braruz. “There will be no more reprimands. For as long as the Jedi remain an asset to our mission, I will not tolerate any threat to their security aboard my ship.”

Braruz swallowed. “Understood, sir.”

“One more thing. From this point forward, you will accompany Bridger and Jarrus on any away missions, then report directly to me--and to me alone--any pertinent information the Jedi are unlikely to reveal in my immediate presence.”

“Yes, Grand Admiral.”

 

**Kanan - _Chimaera_**

Kanan lay in his nondescript bunk, wishing he could catch up on lost sleep. Once again, he’d thought he was in bed, dreaming of roaming the sterile corridors…until his eyes opened to find a startled service droid, its lenses staring back and recording Kanan’s every move. _“You are in a restricted area, Master Jarrus. Please return to your quarters.”_ Kanan realized he’d been headed for the bridge dressed only in sleeping pants. Odd behavior for someone who wasn’t drunk, or trying to catch Hera’s eye back in those earlier post-Gorse months aboard the Ghost.

 _Why did he keep hearing Mace Windu’s voice?_ It made no sense! Kanan had never heard a peep from his Jedi Grandmaster before. The weirdness had all started not long after his removal from the _Chimaera’s_ bacta tank, but as mere, indecipherable whispers. Mace’s distinctly recognizable voice first emerged when Kanan drifted into one of his deeper trances, a particular, meditative state he and Ezra had quickly developed together to communicate important information they didn’t want nosy Imperials to overhear.

It had become rapidly crystal clear that Thrawn and his minions planned to keep both Jedi’s private time (either together or alone) as limited as possible. Ezra had also confirmed Kanan’s suspicions that various droids and personnel were eavesdropping on them in public, then reporting to the Grand Admiral. Long ago, Ezra had put PZ-5 on the trail of ferreting out specific spies, plus any changes to their rotations. Ezra surreptitiously taught Kanan the _“we’ve got a live one”_ hand signals he and PZ-5 created. _That droid._ He could easily see PZ-5, Chopper, and AP-5 engaged in a chassis kicking contest over who outranked who on the _Ghost_. If only he’d get to see it.

For now, he was stuck with scheming Imps. So, in public areas like the commissary, Ezra mainly caught Kanan up on non-confidential things…like the _Chimaera’s_ journey to date and various, important discoveries the ship had made while passing through the systems. When Ezra first guided him through the decks, Kanan was reluctantly impressed by how well the crew functioned as a cohesive unit under Thrawn, despite heavy losses. The decks that housed higher ranking officers and most of the stormtroopers had been particularly damaged by the purrgil, so enlisted personnel were quickly promoted to fill vacancies. Kanan noted many corridors of the ship’s damaged sections remained sealed off pending the Star Destroyer’s return to the Empire’s repair yards. He and Ezra planned to be long gone before that day dawned.

Kanan had to admit Thrawn’s leadership was clearly superior to most Imperials he’d had the displeasure of dealing with, but that’s where he drew the line. Lacking Ezra’s five years of imposed proximity to Thrawn, Kanan’s loathing of the Grand Admiral--and everything he’d done to hurt Kanan’s loved ones—remained very fresh in his heart. How in the nine hells Ezra had managed to hold his own for so long and so alone was a testament to the young Jedi. So, when Ezra broke down during one of their rare private moments, browbeating himself about Hera’s rescue plan, it momentarily stunned Kanan.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of flying the gliders over the fuel depot and dropping detonators! I could’ve distracted Pryce and her goons while Sabine got you and Hera safely out…and none of this…,” Ezra had waved futilely at the starship’s dull innards, “would’ve ever happened.” Mistaking Kanan’s appalled silence as agreement, Ezra fumbled onwards. “Better yet, I could’ve—”

“Don’t you dare say another word, Ezra.” Kanan had gripped Ezra’s shoulders, still getting used to how the once scrappy boy had turned into a solid young man. “We both trusted in the Force that night, and it was the right thing to do.”

Ezra had only ducked his head, unable to meet Kanan’s eyes. “Ezra, you’ve got to remember what you did helped save our homeworld. None of us get to see the big picture, only small bits of each path to choose from.” When his not-padawan had failed to look convinced, Kanan had squeezed Ezra’s shoulders reassuringly before finally letting go.

“I know what seemed like my…death was very, very hard on you, Hera, everyone. We’ve all lost years we wanted to share.” Kanan’s hands had gripped his knees. They would never pick up his swaddled youngling to cradle in his arms. And he couldn’t share Hera’s pregnancy with Ezra, not yet. _He needs my undivided attention, not something he’ll try to add to his guilt trip._ Kanan’s sigh was ragged. “I wish to hell things could’ve been different, but thanks to you—”

“And Dume.” Ezra’s humble voice had interjected.

Kanan’s face scrunched while he’d wiggle-waggled his hand noncommittaly. “Ehhh, I suppose he deserves _some_ of the credit. The point is…we’re here together. And together we’re gonna figure out why the Force led us here, so we can make it back home. You got that?”

Slowly, Ezra had met his gaze. “I…can’t even describe how good it feels to have you back, Master. I mean, Kanan.” Ezra had faltered, then his jaw tightened. “I’m not going to lie, it was really awful at the beginning…but little by little I’ve found most of the crew to be pretty decent people. Misguided for sure, but not evil.” He’d shrugged awkwardly. “Not that I’m close to anyone…but I guess I _do_ care about what happens to them.”

Kanan smiled gently. _He might look different on the outside, but Ezra had the same compassionate heart beating on the inside._ Kanan had turned to his favorite tactic—teasing--to lighten the mood. “Yeah, well, I’m sure you’ve charmed more than a few Imps into feeling the same about you. Maybe even that Devaronian science officer who practically records your every move.”

 _Oh, his ploy had worked like a charm._ Ezra’s cheeks had flushed while his dark eyebrows shot up. “Cri Braruz? Are you kidding me? I’m her _specimen_ , Kanan. I bet she’s sharpening her dissection tools for the moment Thrawn tosses us aside.”

Kanan’s smile slipped sideways. “We’ll see about that.” Everywhere they went on the _Chimaera_ , he’d sensed Braruz and other crew members mostly acted aloof toward Ezra to keep the Grand Admiral from breathing down their necks. _My not-padawan may have even conjured up some much-needed allies on board this tub_.

“What I do know, Ezra, is you’ve done a lot to be proud of.” Kanan had patted Ezra’s back fondly. “I don’t know of anyone in the Rebellion, myself included, who could’ve handled themselves better all this time alone.” Ezra had eagerly led Kanan to their training session, his blue eyes bright and no longer brooding.

Kanan’s mind deposited him back in the present. _I should shower before breakfast._ Instead of rising, Kanan crossed his hands behind his head on the none-too-cushy pillow. Yep. So here he was, amazingly still alive. On the bright side, he and Ezra were getting quite a kick out of their evolving Jedi relationship while deciphering the Force’s mysterious mission for them in Wild Space. _On the flip side, we’re under the magnifying glass of a certain Chiss who’d welcome any excuse to throw me out the main hanger._ Such as wandering about the ship half-naked in pursuit of a voice from the past.

 _Kriff_. As if it wasn’t it enough Kanan and Ezra were already dealing with a sticky mess concerning the Grand Admiral. _“I’ve had visions the Emperor is dead,”_ Ezra’s silent message had penetrated Kanan’s trance as the two Jedi meditated separately in their own quarters. _“Can you see it, too, Kanan?”_

It had taken Kanan several deep breaths to re-submerge himself fully into the Force. He’d first sent the anxious Ezra his assurances he’d been wise to keep this news from Thrawn for now. Then, Kanan stretched his senses far and wide. He’d felt the low thrum of Dume’s presence, the ancient Force entity pulsing like a secondary, slower heartbeat. Ever since Ezra rescued Kanan from the Ja’Gharian temple, Dume had lurked under the surface of Kanan’s awareness as an integral, but silent aspect of his energy field. Now as Kanan probed ever outward for a hint of Palpatine, Dume stirred with increasing alertness. The sensation was like an inner channel being finely tuned, enhancing Kanan’s ability to connect with the galaxy in ways he’d never experienced before.

Kanan had gagged as he encountered the abhorrent remnants of the Emperor’s Force signature. It was as if something profane had ruptured, snapping key strands within the galaxy’s glistening web of Light. Kanan shared Dume’s premonition of something unfathomably Dark encroaching upon those vulnerable expanses. Kanan sent his wordless message to Ezra. _He’s gone. But he left the door wide open for something meaner and uglier--on purpose._

His deep sense of foreboding seemed connected to something far beyond the vicious alien forces the _Chimaera_ had been researching--and evading--with bated breath. _How many other red flags are popping up out there while we struggle with the ones already waving in our faces?_ Would the Rebellion even matter if the safety of the galaxy itself—its every inhabitant--was at risk?

Kanan pulled the pillow over his head, groaning. Regardless, he and Ezra had to relay the news of the Emperor to Thrawn sooner rather than later. It would help no one if the Grand Admiral (or any of his underling scouts) were caught off-guard by learning the shocking truth through some indifferent, outside spacers.

As to what Thrawn would do with the information, that remained unclear in the Force. _How typical_. Then again, considering Kanan found the Chiss’ mind a conniving, convoluted maze--impenetrable as a clear path out of this section of Wild Space—it stood to reason the Force did, too. A mirthless grin spread across his face. Kanan’s best guess involved Thrawn tossing him and Ezra into the brig on the grounds of instigating treason or mutiny. His worst guess involved his far too frequent enemy: the airlock.

Kanan yawned, running his hand over the peach fuzz of his scalp. Which brought his thoughts full circle to Mace Windu and his intimidating, bald visage. His Grandmaster’s voice had notably picked up in frequency after the revelation of the Emperor’s demise. In his dreams that weren’t dreams, Kanan followed Master Windu’s elusive voice through flashes of unfamiliar landscapes and settings. The most recent vocal snippet had been _“This is a costly war”_ before Kanan stumbled into the hapless service droid. Kanan’s sigh expanded into another yawn. All this he’d also withheld from Ezra so far. Relaying a mishmash of conversations that Kanan had never been a part of would only add unnecessary worry to his not-padawan.

Another yawn almost cracked his jaws as Kanan scratched at his incoming goatee. Well, he was just too kriffing tired to explore this particular predicament at the moment. Besides, he needed to concentrate on his official meet and greet with the almighty Thrawn. It would be his first time up close and personal with the Grand Admiral since Bendu almost killed them both. _Ah, the good times._ The upcoming encounter promised to be an intricate dance of outward cooperation with the ( _now defunct_?) Empire, while covertly probing at Thrawn’s vise-like mind to extract his real intentions toward Ezra and himself. Kanan just hoped he’d manage to avoid punching Thrawn’s haughty face within the first thirty seconds.

As Kanan forced himself to sit up, his heart was speared by a merciless wish. If only his lumpy pillow would transform into Hera’s warm, soft body to wrap himself around. Solutions to desperate problems always found him easiest when he lay nestled in her arms. _Stop your useless pining. You will find your way back to her_. Then again, knowing his hot-blooded Twi’lek pilot, she’d most likely find her way back to him first.

**Hera - _Lothal_**

Hera stood under the brightening sky of Lothal and looked into Kanan’s penetrating eyes, wishing with all her heart that they were real.

The statue of Kanan and Ezra was uniquely beautiful, carved from now exceedingly rare Alderaanian marble. Princess Leia had become aware of a huge block of the elegant stone stored away, earmarked by Palpatine to be carved into some gloat-worthy backdrop for his throne in the Imperial Palace. Over the objections of absolutely no one, the outraged Rebel icon immediately seized possession of the precious material.

Hera sighed deeply. _If anyone knows the agony of tremendous loss, it is certainly Princess Organa._ As a personal gift, Leia had dedicated this remnant of her destroyed home world to honor the two Jedi who sacrificed themselves to liberate Lothal and inspired so many throughout the Rebellion’s darkest times.

The princess had consulted with Hera and Sabine on how best to represent the fallen knight and his still missing padawan. All three women ultimately agreed on a portrayal of Kanan and Ezra during the period when the Jedi helped Leia steal her own Hammerhead corvettes--ships that would play a pivotal role in the Rebel victory at Scarif. The finished statues of the two Jedi would stand as an honor guard at the foot of _“The Liberation of Lothal”_ spire in Capital City.

With Leia’s royal funding behind the project, Sabine had engaged a gifted Mandalorian sculptor recommended by her father. The stunning result was unveiled during Lothal’s grand, five-year Liberation Anniversary to massive applause—and many tears—from the gathered crowd. Hera’s eyes had probably been the only pair which avoided looking directly at the statues that night. The emotion-drenched celebration was overwhelming enough without the life-size replicas of Kanan and Ezra as a centerpiece. It took all of Hera’s composure to make it through the seemingly endless speeches and heart tugging conversations before she could retreat to the _Ghost_. There, she’d curled up with Jacen in his bunk, listening to his breathing slip into the rhythm of sleep just as she’d done countless times with his father.

Now Hera soaked in every detail of the two Jedi standing devoutly against tyranny, brandishing slender lightsabers skyward. Hera stiffened, recalling Jacen’s exhilarated face when he handed over Kanan’s newly found saber. _“I think he’s going to need it back.”_ Hera tucked that perturbing thought away yet again, just as she had tucked Kanan’s lightsaber in the lockbox to join his mask and other, painfully few personal items.

Hera’s jaw tightened. _Your father’s gone, akei. He’s not coming back._ Oh, but the sculpture standing before her was real and magnificent. Holograms paled in comparison to Kanan’s solid, lifelike form, his handsome features and powerful stance captured perfectly by the artist. Hera fingers twitched with memories of stroking that angular cheek, his silky hair. Just a hint of Kanan’s infectious, crooked smile played at the edges of his carved mouth. _Jacen’s smile_. Hera’s eyes stung. Every reminder of how much of Kanan lived on in their son both healed and hurt her heart at the same time.

Turning her blurring gaze to Ezra’s statue, Hera’s lips gradually curved upward. The dull ache in her chest lightened and she wiped tears to better see the mischievous glint in Ezra’s wide eyes. _Ah. It’s him, alright._ There was that touch of cockiness in the tilt of his head, the errant locks of his hair flopping boyishly. The days of the Spectres stealing starships for Princess Leia and the Rebellion seemed like such carefree romps in retrospect. As if in collusion with Hera’s ever shifting mood, thin ribbons of cloud scudded over the rising sun to dim its light.

 _Why, oh why, did I ask Sabine and Ahsoka to meet me here?_ The stone faces before her offered only silence.

“General Syndulla.” Hera turned at the melodic, familiar voice to see Ahsoka Tano cross the last few steps of the beautifully landscaped courtyard. Sabine walked sedately by Ahsoka’s side, her vivid helmet tucked under her arm. Hera had never seen Ahsoka look so… _regal_. Like the Alderaanian marble of the statues, Ahsoka’s pale cloak gleamed as the sun escaped its cloud prison. The elegant circle atop her slender staff reflected light in scattered bursts of brightness. What startled Hera the most, however, was Ahsoka’s face. The former Jedi looked so much older. But not from age. No. It was the sorrow-tinged wisdom pooled deeply in Ahsoka’s sapphire eyes…an essence of self-imposed isolation that hung like a veil over the Togruta’s kindly expression.

“Just Hera. Please.” Hera managed a smile back for both women. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Ahsoka.”

“And you as well, Hera.” Ahsoka’s free hand clasped Hera’s shoulder, her touch emanating warmth and strength. Hera suddenly realized she knew full well why she’d chosen this meeting spot. _Where were you, Ahsoka, when I lost my love, along with the boy who was like a son to me? Ezra told us how he saved you in that strange place…Why didn’t you come back in time to help save them both?_

Hera lowered her eyes and took a deep breath to silence the sudden buzz of accusatory thoughts. It was unfair to still feel bitterness over Ahsoka’s disappearance. Clearly, wherever Ahsoka had been—whatever trials she’d faced during these five years—the experience had taken a heavy toll.

As if reading Hera’s mind, Ahsoka released her to study the statues of Kanan and Ezra with an expression of admiration and somber regret. “It’s a masterful rendition of them both.” She bowed her hooded head. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here in time for the dedication ceremony.” Ahsoka grasped her staff with both hands. “And words can never express how much I wish I could’ve been part of your efforts to free Lothal. I would’ve gladly given my life to have Kanan and Ezra standing here with you today instead.”

Hera’s mouth moved, but no words came. Sabine gently touched Ahsoka’s arm. “Ahsoka, we would have lost them both at Malachor if not for you.” Ahsoka nodded, but her eyes remained downcast. In the silence, Sabine forced a cocky grin and readjusted the grip on her helmet. “And we will find Ezra. There’s no way that monkey-lizard can hide out on me forever.” At this, Ahsoka raised her head with a knowing sparkle in her eyes.

Hera’s own smile barely parted her stiff lips. Her unruly mind now wanted to replay yet again the day Ahsoka ordered her to abandon Kanan to the Grand Inquisitor. Hera had mostly forgiven herself for temporarily obeying the former Fulcrum agent—it had been a gut-wrenching necessity to protect Ezra at the time. But that betrayed look in Ezra’s eyes when Hera called Kanan an expendable soldier? That might as well have been her own heart staring her in the face. _Enough, Hera. No need to inject fresh guilt into unhealed wounds._

Hera realized Sabine was speaking to her with an eyebrow cocked in concern. “…so I’ll grab some caf from the street vendor while you two catch up a bit at the Overlook. Then we’ll all head over to my office for the briefing, okay?”

“Great idea, Sabine.” Hera gestured Ahsoka toward one of the paths that cut through the courtyard’s picturesque flowers and vegetation. “This way, Ahsoka, it’s not far.” Hera and Ahsoka set off toward the seaside after a wave to Sabine. Hera’s lek swung over her shoulder as she glanced back in farewell at the two Jedi frozen forever in valiant pose.

As Hera walked the curving path to the observation deck with Ahsoka, she savored the sun’s balmy warmth on her face. So much of her life had been spent traversing the cold of indifferent space, battling the Empire on inhospitable worlds. _The cost of this one’s freedom had been almost unbearably high._ Hera drew tangy sea air deep into her lungs and relaxed her stiff shoulders.

Ahsoka’s soft voice broke the silence. “Sabine apprised me of what information Ezra shared--and much of what you’ve endured since his disappearance.” Hera’s lips pressed together. _Endured_. An all too fitting word.

“Luckily, we’ve had each other and extended family to get through the worst of it.”

Ahsoka’s brow furrowed minutely, then smoothed. This time her voice was almost a whisper. “Family is a blessing. It is clear that motherhood suits you well.”

Hera nodded a chagrined thank you, belatedly realizing her words had omitted Ahsoka from her inner circle. Meanwhile, Ahsoka’s gaze serenely shifted back to the sparkling blue sea coming into view, scanning its soft horizon for a long moment.

“It’s certainly been…uh, interesting,” Hera replied. _It’s the reason you don’t find me the same Rebel pilot you recruited_. Hera’s razor focus of devotion to the cause had been forever tempered by tragic loss coupled with startling joy. Despite inevitable flickers of self-doubt before and after Jacen’s birth, Hera found herself strengthened—not weakened--by finally acknowledging and fulfilling the personal and emotional needs she no longer denied.

The tapping of Ahsoka’s staff was the only response for a long moment. “Hera, I promise to explain my long journey back to Lothal during Sabine’s briefing.” Hera almost winced as Ahsoka’s penetrating, sapphire eyes settled on her. “For now, we have a more personal matter to discuss.” She smiled unaffectedly. “Your son.”

Hera’s lekku stiffened. “What all did Sabine tell you?”

“Only that you are apprehensive regarding his Force-sensitivity and what might be best for his development.”

Hera’s stomach fluttered. “Oh…yes. I’ve been hoping you’d have some…suggestions.”

Ahsoka stroked her chin with her free hand, eyes hooded. “You’re aware Jacen was born on a planet uniquely strong in the Force?”

“What little I know of all that is—was--through Kanan and Ezra.” Hera took another deep breath of the sea air. “They gave everything they had to Lothal, so it just felt…right to give birth to Jacen here.”

Ahsoka shifted her staff to her other hand. “I understand.”

Hera fixed her gaze on a small yacht hovering its way toward the marina. “We return here whenever my schedule allows to enjoy the peace and quiet.” A smile found its way to Hera’s lips. “But mostly because Jacen loves playing with the Loth-cats.”

Humor sparkled in Ahsoka’s eyes. “Before I forget, I should say I’ve heard nothing but praise from the pilots you’ve trained at the base. My two X-wing escorts were your former students. Hyrran Tong and Nuada Taluka.”

Hera’s smile turned wry. “Ah, those two troublemakers. I had to keep a tight rein on them for a few weeks, but they straightened out.”

“All it takes is the right teacher.” Ahsoka tilted her staff in a small circle. “Which brings us back to Jacen.”

Hera sighed. “I know he needs training, but I don’t feel right about leaving him in a compound…” Alone. Hera sensed that unspoken word was more for herself than her son. _Kanan gone. Ezra missing. And now Sabine will leave with Ahsoka to find him._

“Hera, I had only a brief time with Luke Skywalker, but I can assure you he has a kind heart and honorable intentions. If anyone can rebuild the Jedi Order on a foundation of compassion and wisdom, I believe it’s Luke. He has only the finest qualities of his par…father.”

Hera turned as Ahsoka’s voice faltered. _What is she hiding?_ The Togruta’s face remained serene, but her grip on the staff was overly tight. “That said, I feel Jacen should not be trained by Luke. At least not at this time.”

“Really?” Hera almost sagged with relief. “Why not?”

Ahsoka’s array of lekku shifted as she sighed deeply. “Luke has a heavy load before he can truly devote himself to the few Force-sensitives now at the Academy. His mission includes collecting Jedi artifacts and archives—anything and everything the Emperor didn’t destroy. All of which is vital to Luke’s own knowledge and mastery of the Force.”

“So…if Luke’s too busy, are you saying… _you’ll_ train Jacen?” Hera’s own lekku quivered expectantly.

Ahsoka fixed her gaze on the bob of fishing boats far across the waves. “The problem is, I’m not a neutral party, Hera. Although I left the Jedi Order, so much of my connection with the Force is wired into me through my years as a youngling and padawan.” She turned to face Hera. “It’s remains unclear to me if a Jedi path is appropriate for Jacen, considering his father’s unconventional nature.”

Hera’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. Kanan said he was knighted in Lothal’s Jedi Temple.”

“Yes. But based on my relationships with Kanan and Ezra, along with data I’m still gathering…I’ve come to believe both would’ve chafed under the Order had the Jedi Purge never occurred.”

“In what way, exactly?” Hera’s tone was sharper than intended. _Was Ahsoka implying her Jedi were inferior in some way?_

Ahsoka’s voice turned soothing. “It appears Lothalian born Force-sensitives are anchored by a very deep connection to the Living Force—especially to the core energies of Lothal itself. It creates emotional requirements out of alignment with the classical Jedi code.”

Ahsoka pointed at a flock of white-feathered seabirds dipping in and out of the water. “For example, I’m sure you recall Ezra’s ability to call upon both Light and Dark…and his empathic abilities to strongly connect and communicate with a multitude of living forms.”

Hera shook her head, a grimace and a smile competing for her lips. “How could I ever forget?”

Ahsoka nodded, her full lips upturned. “A Lothalian Jedi’s Force connection seems to hinge on their attachments to the people they care for…attachments that for most Jedi can lead to a dangerous imbalance. To the Dark Side.” Ahsoka’s face paled as she walked up the wide steps to the observation deck in silence.

Hera followed Ahsoka to the guardrail made of elegantly intertwined driftwood. “I still don’t understand. Ezra wasn’t Dark. He removed himself—and Thrawn—to help protect us all from the Empire.”

Ahsoka leaned her staff against the rail, and pulled her hood back. Her eyes locked on Hera’s own. “I was referring to Kanan, Hera. His ability to love you as strongly as he did without turning obsessively possessive and destructive…it is something rarely mastered by a Jedi. Perhaps by any Force wielder.” Ahsoka’s free hand gripped the guardrail. “Kanan not only achieved that emotional balance, he awakened it within his padawan as well.”

Hera steadied herself against the guardrail, dimly aware of the crashing surf below. Her mouth felt very dry. “Wait a minute. You’ve been telling me that _Kanan_ was a Lothalian himself? All this time?”

Ahsoka’s robes fluttered in the sea breeze as she dipped her montrals in a nod. Hera sifted poignant memories. “Huh. It’s no wonder he found Ezra here and they felt such a connection.” She winced in pain, swallowed the lump building in her throat. “Kanan ended where he began…I wish he’d known that.” _Or, perhaps Kanan had sensed something._ He’d acted more and more differently before the end.

“I’ve extracted every bit of data available on Kanan—Caleb Dume--in the records salvaged from the Coruscant Temple to date. It wasn’t easy--his file was restricted to only the highest Jedi Council members.”

Hera’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t that typical?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Ahsoka cradled her staff, pensive. “The Jedi archives indicate a number of Lothalian natives over the centuries were born with enhanced sensitivities to nature on the planet. However, Caleb Dume was the only youngling ever taken into the Order and trained as a Jedi.”

“That sounds like he was special in some way.” Hera puzzled. _Well, Kanan was certainly special to me._

“I’m still deciphering the details of his case. I believe it’s important to knowing what’s best for Jacen.”

Hera felt her spine tingle. Hm. _What is it you don’t want to tell me, Ahsoka?_ It felt like she was back in the days of Fulcrum, being told only what was expressly needed for the mission. “That reminds me, you never really answered my question about training him yourself.”

Ahsoka tilted her head decisively. “I advise you to consult a non-Jedi Force-sensitive. One who can objectively observe Jacen to get a clearer sense of what lies on his path.” Ahsoka’s sapphire eyes probed Hera appraisingly. “But all hinges on your openness and trust.”

Hera turned her palms upward. “Please, Ahsoka. Just tell me where to find this person.”

“Very well, then. You will go to Takodana in the Western Reaches. I’ve already spoken to Hondo Ohnaka, and he is willing to escort you—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… _Hondo Ohnaka_?” Hera’s palms now planted themselves on her hips. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Hm. Openness and trust, remember?” Ahsoka gave Hera a reproving glance. “Hondo is best suited for the task. First of all--as I understand you witnessed during the liberation of Lothal--Hondo has a soft spot when it comes to helping young Jedi.”

“I do have to give you that,” Hera sighed, lekku sagging. “Fine. What’s the second of all?”

“Hondo is a very close friend of Maz Kanata, the wise one Jacen needs to meet.”

“Maz Kanata, the pirate queen?!” Hera’s lekku felt as if they’d sprung straight up above her flight cap like exclamation points.

Ahsoka’s eyes now glittered with a hint of mischief. “Ah. You know Maz already?”

“I know _of_ her from all the times Kanan and I spent smuggling! I can’t believe you want me to take my five-year-old son into a pirate’s den.” Hera crossed her arms, grumbling to herself. “He’ll never want to leave.”

Ahsoka leaned in, gesturing reassuringly. “I wouldn’t send you off to Maz Kanata without the Force’s guidance to do so.” Hera’s eyebrow arched itself balefully. A sigh escaped Ahsoka. “Hera…the pirate queen is the only face I see when I meditate on your son. Will you trust me?”

Hera’s eyebrow slowly slid back down. Her mind was a whirl of fleeting fragments: Missions and battles, peaceful moments, sorrow and laughter, all with Ahsoka steadfast at the vortex. Hera’s heart told her if a hideous creature launched itself from the rising tide below, Ahsoka would instantly, selflessly give her life to save Hera from its snapping jaws. _Perhaps it’s the Force itself I’m no longer sure of._

It was now Hera who clasped Ahsoka on the shoulder. “Of course, I trust you, Ahsoka. I always have.”

“Great! I’m sure glad all that’s settled!” Hera turned to see Sabine striding across the deck to join them, bearing a drink carrier heavy with caf containers. Sabine’s grin turned especially fierce. “Now let’s get to work before Jacen locks Zeb in the cargo hold again.”

**Ezra - _Chimaera_**

Ezra gave himself one last inspection in the mirror before heading off to breakfast. Everything looked properly buckled and in place. He grinned to himself as he admired his recent crew cut. Thrawn wouldn’t allow long hair or full beards, but he’d very reluctantly given up on making Ezra wear a ridiculous Imperial cap only because it fell off thirty seconds into a training session. Ezra’s grin turned positively impish.

He’d found himself smiling a lot more often over Thrawn’s peculiarities lately and knew without a doubt it was because he now had someone to laugh over them with. _Kanan_. There were still mornings where Ezra woke up in a panic thinking it had all been a dream. That he’d go to Kanan’s quarters to find them cold and vacant.

He was still wrapping his brain around everything Kanan had communicated via their trance sessions about Dume, about how he tried so hard to reach out more directly during the horrible days following the explosion. Ezra’s smile faltered, then swooped back into place with a thought that still got his heart beating fast. _Kanan’s Lothalian, too. We were meant to be Jedi together._ No matter what happened on the _Chimaera_ from this point forward, Ezra felt confident he and his Master (former Master) were exactly where the Force wanted them to be. And one day soon, that place would be home.

Zipping out of his quarters, he almost mowed down PZ-5. “Whoops, sorry!” Ezra steadied the droid. “I’m running a little late.”

“Good morning, Master Ezra. Master Kanan wanted me to inform you he awaits you in the commissary.”

“Okay, thanks. Oh, hey, were you able to translate any more of the records we salvaged from the Sintuuian system?” He walked backwards, awaiting PZ-5’s reply.

“Unfortunately, the planet was a simple trading post with only a handful of small settlements, Master Ezra. If our translations are accurate, they did reference a system that may have at least one planetoid with Clouzon thirty-six gas in its atmosphere."

“That’s what the purrgils eat.” Ezra almost skipped in excitement, mind racing.

“Yes, sir, it is at least one of the gases edible to the creatures that the archives are aware of. The Grand Admiral ordered the Chimaera’s course to be altered to intercept. You, Master Kanan, Lieutenant Braruz, and I will be the away team on the mission. I am on my way to prepare your shuttle.”

Ezra frowned at the mention of the Devaronian. _She’s babysitting us._ Fine. You want to document two Jedi in action, that’s what you’ll get. “We’ll head over once Thrawn releases us. See you then, PeeZee.” PZ-5 returned his two fingered salute as they parted ways.

At the commissary, Ezra spied Kanan’s broad back at a far table. None of the other crew members were seated nearby, although Ezra noticed Kanan was the recipient of curious, covert stares. Kanan seemed oblivious to the attention, busy tapping keys on a datapad in between spoonfuls of the bland, cooked grain that was the mainstay of breakfast meals.

Ezra grabbed up a tray and was entering the food line…when an uneasiness tickled at him. Turning, he noticed a table half-full of off duty stormtroopers snickering and nudging each other. Suddenly, a spice shaker zoomed directly towards Kanan’s back. Ezra barely had time to think _this should be interesting_ before Kanan’s free hand lifted slightly. The spice shaker froze millimeters from his back. Everyone watched in tense silence as the shaker floated into Kanan’s open hand. Without even turning around, Kanan calmly shook some spice into his porridge bowl. “Thanks. This will taste a little less like druk now.” Titters rippled from the occupants of other tables around the area.

A smirk grew on Ezra’s face as Kanan casually turned around, his vivid teal eyes scanning the table of rigid stormtroopers. His gaze locked on the red-haired brute who had slung the object. Ezra grimaced. _Of course--it was Bek, ever the charmer._ With an effortless Force-push from Kanan, the spice shaker sailed back across the room and landed in Bek’s bowl with a splut.

“Sorry, bad aim.” Kanan winked mirthlessly, then turned back around to resume eating. More suppressed giggles—which hushed the moment Bek and two other stormtroopers stood up with their eyes shooting daggers at Kanan. To Ezra’s intense disappointment, they merely headed for the exit. Ezra overheard mutterings of “rebel scum” and “not worth it” as they passed by him. Ezra gave them his most insolent, two fingered salute, earning a furious glare from their leader. “Yeah. Always good to see you, too, Bek.”

“Things always this friendly?” Kanan asked as Ezra joined him.

“Eh. Those guys were a little rough in the beginning, but they settled down. I think you’re just ‘shaking’ them up a bit.”

“Ugh, your puns are almost as bad as this paste.” Kanan grinned, then bit into a slice of fruit.

“It’ll grow on you. Maybe literally.” Ezra dumped generous portions of sweetener and cream into his own unappetizing bowl. “Sleeping okay? You look tired.”

Kanan’s mouth thinned. “Just getting used to the Imperial routine.” He chomped another bite of fruit. “PeeZee told me about the mission. I’m looking forward to getting off this ship for a bit.”

“Yeah, if Thrawn lets us go after we hit him with our good news.” Ezra forced his lumpy spoonful down with a gulp of caf. He muttered the rest so softly it was barely audible above the clatter of the diners in the background. “Although, will he even believe us without any proof?”

Kanan responded just as quietly. “The important thing is he’ll have heard it from us first before anyone else. And it will give him some time to figure out how to break it to the crew when the time comes.” Kanan jerked his thumb toward the exit. “Those three and their kind won’t take it kindly when they find out.”

“What do you mean? You’ve seen how loyal the crew is to Thrawn. Will, uh, _you know who’s_ death even matter?”

“If Thrawn can’t get them back to the Empire for whatever reason, that could change a lot of attitudes. When all is said and done, the Grand Admiral is an alien outsider--and unloved by his high-ranking colleagues from what I recall of Hera’s intel.” Kanan briefly squeezed Ezra’s shoulder and relayed by Force the core message. _“Without the Emperor to back him, Thrawn knows his rivals will make sure his fall is faster than his rise.”_

“So…where do we fit into all this?” Ezra forgot to be quiet as his stomach churned.

Kanan scanned the room and the few remaining onlookers shifted their curious faces away from his measuring gaze. “We’re Jedi, Ezra. Right now, we don’t seem to fit anywhere.” Kanan’s next words were heard only in Ezra’s mind. _"But if the Empire’s gone with Palpatine, all that can change."_

**Ahsoka - _Lothal_**

Ahsoka stood at the small conference table in Sabine’s office, spearheading the holovid presentation on display before her audience of two. The colorful artwork adorning Sabine’s otherwise pristine walls faded as Ahsoka dimmed the room lights. “I’ll condense my return to Lothal as much as possible to avoid overwhelming you with irrelevant details.”

“We hope this isn’t too painful for you.” Hera set aside her caf, curiosity ablaze in the depths of her green eyes. “It just helps to know, even a little.” Next to her, Sabine nodded with anticipation.

Ahsoka repressed a shudder. It had nothing to do with the presence of her companions, and everything to do with the cold, lonely chill of Malachor that never seemed to leave her bones. She felt forever imprinted by that horrifying, never ending day of confrontations: Inquisitors. Maul. Anakin. _No. Darth Vader._ All followed by a mind-bending wrench through time and space to discover Kanan was dead—and his heroic sacrifice being used as bait by the Emperor to trap Ezra. Ahsoka took a calming breath, released her clenching fists.

“Very well.” She tapped keys, bringing up a series of archival images of Lothal’s serene Jedi Temple, juxtaposed alongside the malevolent Sith Temple on Malachor. “When Ezra saved me through Lothal’s portal, I sensed if I attempted to exit with him outside of my timeline…the Temple would self-destruct. Anyone within the blast radius—certainly us--would almost certainly perish.”

“Yeah, we barely made it out of there as it was,” Sabine muttered.

Ahsoka rubbed her arm, where beneath the robes her skin remained scarred by Sith magic. “I returned to Malachor, where it required a deep, healing meditation to recover from the Emperor’s attack.” Ahsoka paused, recalling the eerie emptiness of the deeper, undestroyed chambers. “It was then that Master Yoda spoke to me. I never expected him to penetrate the Sith Temple’s Dark energies, but he managed a brief moment of comfort and guidance.”

 _It is prudent for now to keep that moment to myself._ The ancient Jedi master had asked no questions about the events on Malachor. By his few words, Yoda seemed well aware of those who lay dead, and those who had retreated to nurse searing inner and outer wounds. _"Find you will an Inquisitor’s fighter ship worthy of space."_ But even if she did, where could she go where the wrath of Darth Vader did not follow? Yoda’s fading message still pulsed in her ears. _"Walk did you through the Between. Changed, many potentials are. Seek now you must the place where time the price of knowledge is._ "

Ahsoka refocused on Hera and Sabine. “Ezra and Kanan had escaped safely in the Phantom. There was no sign of Darth Vader or Maul as I searched for an abandoned ship. So much was buried under debris, but I found one Inquisitor’s TIE mainly intact. I set course for Thabeska as soon as I could. I had contacts there more than willing to trade for a less conspicuous ship.” Ahsoka smiled slightly at the memories of her unscrupulous Fardi connections and the scrappy YT-1760 they had coughed up in exchange.

Hera’s mouth set in a grim line. “We understand you couldn’t return to the Rebellion back then. If the Empire had known you were still alive—”

Sabine finished the sentence. “You would have been hunted down mercilessly.”

Ahsoka’s montrals dipped in a nod. “At that time, I was nothing but a danger to everyone and everything I cared about.” Ahsoka tapped more keys, bringing up a galactic star map. “And Master Yoda had entrusted me with a mission, one I could sense was of vital relevance to the…Rebellion.” _The entire galaxy._

Hera’s face twisted with confusion. “But what mission could be so important you vanished for years?”

Sabine’s eyes narrowed almost accusingly. “You promised Ezra you’d find him.”

“Patience, dear friends. My pathway to this point--and what we face beyond—remains difficult even for me to fully understand.”

Hera’s knuckles whitened as she clasped her hands. “We’ll do our best.”

“As will I.” Ahsoka keyed the display to zoom in on the planet Devaron. “Morai, my…special Force companion, had helped me uncover a few pertinent clues in the Sith Temple before I left for Thabeska.”

Ahsoka now displayed images of an old stone structure surrounded by encroaching greenery. “That information led me to Devaron’s Temple of Eedit. I gained entry through a secret cave entrance unknown to the Empire’s garrisons there. Once inside, the Force directed me to a cache of archaic records. I extracted data on a civilization that existed long before the dawn of our galaxy. They’ve been called Celestials but are more commonly known as the Architects.”

Sabine tapped at her temple, expression both reflective and skeptical. “Hmm, I’ve seen artifacts from different cultures depicting the Architects, but everyone knows those stories are just legends.”

Hera nodded sharply, lekku shifting. “One of Jacen’s favorite bedtime stories is how the Architects built the Maw to trap space monsters near Kessel.” The Twi’lek’s eyebrows twitched in confusion. “Not sure what that has to do with Ezra.”

Ahsoka gazed coolly at both women. “After what happened at Lothal’s Temple, do you still feel the same regarding myths of the Ones?” Hera and Sabine exchanged a chastened glance.

“As for what is fact or fiction concerning the Architects, the translation of the archives downloaded from Eedit remains incomplete. Sabine, I’m hoping your artistic expertise will help unlock at least some of the pictographic imagery. For now, what matters is that within the data I found a very real map to a long-lost library.”

Tapping another key, Ahsoka shifted the holovid to display a glittering, almost surreally alien structure in orbit around a huge, dead-black circle in space. While Hera and Sabine eyeballed the disturbing image, Ahsoka felt the pit of her stomach twist. She’d never be able to wipe the memory of steering her vulnerable ship toward that indifferent, gaping void.

“In the Old Tongue, the Library’s name roughly translates to ‘The Price of Knowledge is Time.’ It’s an ancient space station built by the Architects, long forgotten by almost all…except a handful of Jedi archivists over the millennia. As you can see, it orbits a massive black hole, so that anyone desperate enough to visit, however briefly—”

“Returns to find years have passed them by on the outside…” Hera’s mouth hung open as she absorbed the implications. “Is _that_ where you’ve been?”

Ahsoka didn’t answer for long moment. It had taken every bit of her Force training to dock calmly with the tomb-like, abandoned artifact. The survival instinct within her core kept screaming to hyperjump away immediately. The black hole seemed all too eager to feast voraciously on anything that brushed up against its immense gravity well too closely.

“For me, barely an hour passed.” Ahsoka turned to her wide-eyed companions. “In your time, I disappeared shortly after Malachor and returned only after the battle at Endor. Almost seven years, gone.” She’d returned to discover Alderaan vaporized. _Masters Yoda and Obi-wan dead_. It was grief, not time, that had lined her face, those terrible losses that still weighed heavy on her heart. _Yet there was also a new hope ignited with young Luke Skywalker. Anakin redeemed by saving his Jedi son from Palpatine_. And now the few scraps that remained of the Dark Lord’s Imperial forces were in hiding somewhere in the Unknown Regions--or being mopped up on Jakku.

Sabine’s face was mix of compassion and consternation. “I don’t get it. Why would anyone build a _library_ in a place like that?”

“I don’t believe it was built there, only hidden away,” Ahsoka clarified.

“It's all very odd.” Hera leaned in, her chin cupped in her hand. “What did you find there?”

“This.” On the holovid, Ahsoka brought up a display of an exquisite frieze carved into a giant, clear blue crystal. The frieze featured three elegant aliens far taller and thinner than a Kaminoan, all garbed in intricate, flowing robes. The central figure held a long, metallic staff horizontally over its head, gripped within exceedingly slender fingers.

Sabine rose to study the crystalline frieze more closely. “This reminds me of the Temple’s mural of the Ones.”

“The Architects are the precursors to the Ones if my interpretation of the data is accurate. Sabine, you mentioned you and Ezra heard voices when he activated the Gate.” Sabine nodded. “When I entered the Architects’ Library, I heard a voice as well. I can’t say for sure, but I sensed it was the Daughter. She told me she could communicate via the energy that still powers the station. It was she who led me to an inner sanctum and this frieze.”

Hera glanced from the frieze’s image to Ahsoka’s robe and staff set aside by a nearby wall. “Ahsoka, your staff looks just like the one the Architect is holding.”

“That’s because it _is_ the same staff, Hera.” Ahsoka recalled how startled she’d been when the figure in the frieze opened his delicate hands. Before the metal staff could hit the floor, Ahsoka had instinctively called it to her hand with the Force. The moment her fingers closed around the staff, it felt like it had always been hers. “The voice told me it was mine to wield. It’s a key.”

“A key to what?” Sabine asked, expression perturbed and fascinated.

“That remains to be seen for certain.” Ahsoka sighed at their exasperated faces. “Please understand, the Architect’s Library was an immense structure. Much of my limited time to gather information was spent getting to the inner sanctum and back to my ship. But I did manage to collect enough to cobble together a likely theory.”

Bright Mandalorian and Twi’lek eyes locked on her expectantly. Ahsoka hesitated, sensing through the Force those elements of her mission which could be shared, and those that must remain tightly under wraps. Not because she didn’t trust Hera and Sabine, but because there were crucial points she first needed to confirm conclusively. _I will not burden my dear friends with hopes that may prove false in the end_.

“Uh…Ahsoka? I’m all ear cones.” Hera leaned in impatiently, as did Sabine.

“Before I continue, it’s relevant that Sabine share her theories concerning Ezra’s potential whereabouts.” Ahsoka waved Sabine forward. A bit perplexed, Sabine grabbed up her datapad and took over the controls of the holoprojector.

“Well, all of us know that wherever the purrgil took Ezra and Thrawn, it had to be somewhere out of range of the Empire, or we’d have heard something a long time ago. The Emperor would’ve trumpeted Ezra’s capture or death across the Holonet. And with the network of contacts Hera and I’ve put together over the years, we’d know if something else happened--”

“Like pirates looting the Chimaera’s wreckage,” Hera interjected softly.

Sabine tapped keys and the holovid display returned to the star map of the galaxy, this time with the major hyperspace routes lit up. Almost the entire galactic west side was dim in comparison to the bright hyperlanes on the east.

“Now, it’s logical to assume Ezra wouldn’t try to contact or return to us while Palpatine was alive. We know he left to protect us from collateral damage.” Her almond eyes briefly closed as she inhaled a deep breath. “But as there’s been no word since the battle of Endor…I believe he’s become marooned somewhere and has no way to know the Empire lost.”

Ahsoka nodded solemnly. “We must be prepared to face the grim possibility Ezra was captured, or that he’s—"

“Dead.” Hera intoned bleakly, her brow furrowed. “Yes, Sabine and I have discussed all the scenarios—good, bad, and worst--a great deal. With the damage the Chimaera sustained, the first thing he’d have to do is survive hyperspace.”

“I’ve given that a lot of thought,” Sabine crossed her arms, one hand cupping her delicate chin. “And one thing to consider is creatures like the Loth-wolves and purrgil don’t access hyperspace the way we do. When the wolves transported us from the northern to the southern hemisphere, it was like walking on water.” Sabine paced a moment while the others reflected on her words.

“Hera, when we rode the wolves to the Temple, I definitely heard voices from the past—yours and Kanan’s for sure. It was like we were moving inside a space time bubble—wherever it was. Both times, I just sort of woke up very far from where I started.”

Hera nodded, “Yes, it was almost like a dream. Nothing like hyperspace on the Ghost.”

“Hm, it seems the Loth-wolves have their own version of a World Between Worlds they can access at will—at least on Lothal.” Ahsoka added this intriguing puzzle piece to her growing collection.

Sabine’s eyes brightened. “So, if the purrgil can do the same thing in space, that means the Chimaera could’ve jumped across the galaxy in almost no time at all.”

Hera turned to Ahsoka. “Sabine and I both feel it’s very unlikely the purrgil would take Ezra anywhere he’d be immediately endangered.”

Sabine nodded, pointing at an expanse on the star map nestled on the galaxy’s darker side. “Which is why I ruled out the Unknown Regions—that’s where the Chiss are from, so taking Ezra there would have only helped Thrawn.”

“Ezra has to be in one of the regions of Wild Space.” Hera sighed in frustration. “The only problem is--“

“There’s a whole lotta Wild Space.” Sabine planted her hands on her hips, surveying the clusters and filaments of stars encircling the entire galactic edge. “But the northern rim has fewer impassible anomalies to navigate. My target is somewhere along the southwestern edge.”

Ahsoka smiled softly. “Excellent strategy, Sabine. Which brings me back to my patchwork theory.”

As Sabine sat down, Ahsoka drew the others’ attention to the galaxy’s dim, western side. “One of the many legends regarding the Architects is that they deliberately blew up stars and set planets onto rogue trajectories to make this side of galaxy difficult to traverse. The hyperlanes are few and mostly unstable. The stories claim it was to keep savage species from invading the more enlightened cultures of the eastern side.”

Tapping keys, Ahsoka illuminated planetary locations throughout the entire Outer Rim. “Based on the data I’ve collected from my travels, I believe the Architects did much more than that. Using the Force, they created gateways through time and space, and energetically connected a string of planets within our galaxy’s Outer Rim.” Bright lines lit up between all the illuminated worlds that eerily resembled the tattoos on Hera’s lekku.

Ahsoka’s hands moved in a circle as if encompassing the star map. “This connection created and maintained a protective shell. It was meant to prevent extra-galactic intrusions from affecting our galaxy’s development. The Gates provided a warning and communications system.”

Hera took a swallow of her almost forgotten caf, and grimaced. “I, ah, admit to feeling a bit overwhelmed now.”

Sabine crossed her arms. “Yeah, I mean it’s all fascinating, Ahsoka, but…how does it connect to finding Ezra?”

Ahsoka lit up Lothal’s location in the farther northeastern corner. “Because _Lothal_ is one of those connected worlds. And Lothal _was_ a Gate.” Ahsoka tapped more keys rapidly. “Let me show you what else I found, etched into the ceiling of the Library’s inner sanctum.”

The star map winked out, replaced by a fascinating image of what appeared to be a distorted compass, its four corners and center connected and interwoven with elegant, alien glyphs and script.

Sabine’s eyes practically bulged with interest. “I’ve never seen designs quite like that before…” She was on her feet again, fingers tracing through the nearest symbols. “But I’ll bet my best airbrush these largest symbols on the corners represent the four elements.” She pointed out the top right glyph. “See? It’s like a flowing volcano…so that one’s earth.”

“Correct you are.” Ahsoka brought up the galactic star map again, but kept the distorted compass superimposed over it. The symbol resembling a volcano now lay directly upon the planet Lothal. “The Temple Gate of Earth.”

With a key tap, Ahsoka lit up the planet Ilum’s location on the far top left of the map. Superimposed over it was a large glyph that resembled a windblown cloud. “Ilum. The Temple Gate of Air.”

Everyone now looked at the compass’ two bottom corners, each superimposed over areas of Wild Space. On the right was a glyph that looked like a burning torch, while the glyph on the left was like a cresting wave. Ahsoka frowned. “I haven’t yet matched any Jedi temple locations to these Gates of Fire and Water.”

Hera rose to her feet, green eyes wide. “Wait a minute. Ahsoka, do you mind if I enter some coordinates?” Curious, Ahsoka gestured Hera forward.

Hera tapped in the digits—and the planet Lira San lit up under the Fire symbol. Hera turned to Sabine, her lekku swinging. “The Lasat homeworld.” The Twi’lek’s eyes shifted to Ahsoka. “They may not be Jedi, but we know from Zeb they are very devoted to the Ashla.”

Ahsoka stroked her chin in deep thought. “According to the Eedit archives, after the Architects disappeared, the Gates were taken over by the Jedi thousands of years ago.” She studied Lira San more closely. “There very well could be a temple of some other kind there.”

Hera gestured at the southwest corner of the compass. “So…that just leaves the Gate of Water.”

Sabine tucked back an errant strand of bright violet hair. “Here’s the thing. I still don’t understand how these Gates get us to Ezra…”

Ahsoka trailed her fingers trailed through the interweaving patterns on the holovid that connected the four corners and center of the compass. “My theory is that the Force influenced the purgill to drop Ezra near one of these remaining Gates so he could open it when it was safe to do so, then pass through to the Central Gate.”

She tapped a key and the planet Tython lit up beneath all the compass lines that intersected near the galaxy’s center. “Some believe the oldest Jedi Temple of all lies within the Deep Core...here on Tython.”

Sabine’s eyes locked on Ahsoka’s staff in excitement. “So that’s a key to open the Gate to get to Ezra?”

“I believe the staff seals and unseals the Gates…but that duty involves my mission from Master Yoda and the Daughter.” Ahsoka did not share the Daughter’s words still floating in her mind. _The Emperor was not the first, nor will he be the worst, threat to the World Between Worlds. All Gates must be sealed, and the keys safely collected_. “All of which hinges upon finding Ezra first.”

“How nice of them to include Ezra in their plans.” Hera huffed, exchanging a rather heated glance with Sabine.

Ahsoka sighed. “Ezra has no need of _my_ key when he is himself a key. Only, something has happened to keep him from entering the Gate.”

Hera rubbed at her temples, still simmering. “Well, Ezra can’t be on Lira San. The Lasat would’ve sent us a message years ago that he was with them.”

“Agreed.” Sabine approached the holovid’s western side of the star map. “And he can’t be on Ilum. The Empire had it under their thumb while strip mining kyber crystals. That means--”

“Your calculations have been right all along, Sabine. Why am I not surprised.” Hera smiled at Sabine’s blushing face before focusing on the region of Wild Space beneath the Water glyph. “So, if Ahsoka’s theory is correct, we can focus on finding Ezra somewhere near here.”

Sabine face turned wary. “Uh. Hera, you know Ahsoka and I’ll be the ones getting Ezra back. _You_ need to get Jacen to Maz Kanata.”

“Now just a damn minute—” Hera rose up to object and her communicator pinged as if on cue. She answered tartly with, “What is it, Zeb?”

“Ah, Hera, you might want to make your way over to the farmer’s market.” Zeb’s voice was about as subdued as a burly Lasat’s could get.

“And why is that?” Hera’s eyebrow arched almost impossibly high.

“Because Jacen just Force-pushed three younglings into the central fountain. I’ve got some very angry parents breathing down my neck--and I really don’t want to break any of theirs.”

Hera’s lekku sagged as she heaved a sigh. “On my way.” She pointed a stern finger at Ahsoka and Sabine, who blinked back at her innocently. “Don’t either of you dare smile.” They both covered their mouths in an instant.

Hera huffed and headed for the exit—then abruptly turned around, lekku swaying. The stern finger was back. “And don’t you even _think_ of leaving this planet before saying goodbye.”

**Kanan - _Chimaera_**

The closer Kanan walked with Ezra toward Thrawn’s office, the loopier he felt. Out of the corner of his eye, intermittent glimpses of vivid landscapes and building interiors flashed by far too quickly for him to identify. Kanan turned abruptly toward a peripheral image that could be from Ryloth—to, once again, find himself staring at the corridor wall.

 _Maybe my eyes are playing tricks on me after being starved of color for so long_. Kanan couldn’t blame them for trying to generate some visual excitement. The Chimaera’s décor, if anyone could call it that, was drab on drab, accented with a bit of dreary. Dressed in his Imperial boilersuit, Kanan practically blended into the walls himself.

 _“Skywalker, something strange is going on. I think you should come down here.”_ At the sound of Mace Windu’s voice, Kanan almost stumbled. His vision was now scattershot images of running frantically away from an impossibly enormous creature made of scales and teeth. It was as if a Coruscant skyscraper had gone raging amok. _Had he just seen the Zillo beast?_

“Kanan? Are you okay?” Kanan’s vision flashed back to normal. Ezra stood looking up at him with concern. His hand steadied Kanan by the elbow.

“I’m fine.” Ezra gave Kanan what could only be dubbed The Hera Eyebrow. Kanan waggled his hand back and forth. “Okay…mostly fine. I, uh, think I’m still getting used to seeing again.”

“Listen, we don’t have to do this right now if you’re not well. Or, you can go lie down and I’ll deal with Thrawn.”

“It’s okay, Ezra, really. But you can definitely do most of the talking. You know Big Blue best.” Kanan managed a wink as he tugged out of Ezra’s grip to keep walking.

Ezra rolled his eyes as he fell into step beside Kanan. “Nice to know you’re just as stubborn and annoying as ever.”

“And I’m flattered you remembered me so accurately.” Kanan resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. His head felt light, like it wanted to float away somewhere on its own. Just about anywhere would be more pleasant than Thrawn’s upcoming office.

The stormtrooper guarding Thrawn’s doorway shifted at their approach. “Stand by for permission to enter,” he ordered with an upraised hand.

Kanan’s vision jolted to a jagged sequence of Force-propelled clone troopers sailing to safety across a chasm when an energy bridge beneath them deactivated. _This is Ryloth, I know it!_ The scene abruptly twisted to a retinue of Separatist droids being annihilated by Cham Syndulla’s forces. An overlay of Master Windu’s voice intoned, _“You’ve earned your freedom, General, all of you.”_

Kanan scrunched his eyes closed, then popped them open. The stormtrooper’s hand was waving the Jedi toward the now open entrance. Ezra side-eyed Kanan. “Uh…Are you sure about this?”

“Too late now.” Forcing himself forward, Kanan strode into the Grand Admiral’s lair, noting the eclectic collection of artifacts and artwork strategically displayed throughout the passage. He headed to the central, unoccupied desk. “So, where’s our illustrious leader?” Ezra leaned against the desk with a shrug.

“Must be taking out his frustrations on his attack droids again.” Ezra’s mouth twitched sardonically. “Guess he’ll need another session after this meeting.”

Kanan’s roving eyes landed on the unexpected sight of Sabine’s bright, Rebel graffiti on a wall fragment displayed near a corner. He stepped over and gently touched her blazing Starbird, his hackles both raised and soothed by its presence. Kanan shot a heartfelt smile over at Ezra…then felt the palpable weight of Thrawn’s gaze upon his back.

Kanan turned, his stomach clenching as he faced Thrawn. It felt as if his eyes were being pulled toward those glowing, crimson orbs like a magnet. The Chiss stood by an open side passage, his long arms tucked regally behind his back. His head dipped in a coolly polite nod. “May I extend my formal welcome aboard the Chimaera. I would have done so earlier, but the circumstances necessitated recovery time and adjustment.”

Whether or not Thrawn was referring to Kanan or (more likely) to himself was up for grabs. Kanan flipped through all the typical responses he’d have given under normal circumstances. Words like _thank yo_ u and _it’s a pleasure to be here_. Nope and definitely nope. He settled for a coolly polite nod in return.

Thrawn smiled faintly, then tapped thoughtfully at his chin. “I’m rather at a loss as to how to address you, Kanan Jarrus. To the best of my knowledge, you refused any military title under the Rebellion…unlike Commander Bridger here.” Thrawn’s eyes slid briefly to a scowling Ezra, then back to Kanan.

Kanan flinched as Windu’s voice spoke near his ear. _“You must realize there aren’t enough Jedi to protect the Republic. We are keepers of the peace, not soldiers.”_ He took a calming breath. “Just Kanan will do.” Thrawn studied him a moment, as if sensing Kanan’s inner turmoil.

“Very well, then. Kanan. In private, you may address me as Thrawn. In front of my crew, I advise you to refer to me as Grand Admiral. Are we clear on this matter?”

Kanan very clearly imagined Thrawn sailing backward from a well-aimed Force push and smiled charmingly. “As crystal.”

Thrawn gestured at the desk and chairs. “Shall we begin with the mission briefing?”

Ezra rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well before we get into that, there’s something pretty important you need to know…” Thrawn’s aristocratic eyebrows arched inquiringly. “It has to do with the Emperor.”

“Indeed?” The Grand Admiral’s brow furrowed, while his eyes smoldered a richer red.

Whatever conversation ensued was abruptly drowned out as Kanan’s senses were overtaken by an intense duel before his eyes: Mace Windu wielded his violet lightsaber against a crimson-clad Nightsister bearing a flaming green sword. She cackled triumphantly. _“Your power is no match for my magic!”_ Violet clashed against green as Master Windu countered with, _“Magic is only an illusion.”_

Kanan’s braced himself, his mind a whirl of images: Windu with Depa Billaba, observing Kanan's youngling trainings as Caleb Dume in the Coruscant Temple. Windu’s violet blade shimmering in front of Count Dooku. _“This party’s over.”_ Windu with Master Yoda in solemn conversation. _“But which one was destroyed, the master or the apprentice?”_ Windu among the Jedi High Council, Anakin Skywalker standing stiffly before them. _“You are on this council, but we do not grant you the rank of Master.”_

Kanan could feel his hands pressed to his temples, but all he saw now was Palpatine, seated against a backdrop of the Coruscant skyline. Windu’s voice grew louder in his ears. _“In the name of the Galactic Senate of the Republic, you are under arrest.”_ Everything twisted—including Kanan’s insides--while Palpatine effortlessly slayed the charismatic Kit Fisto, and two Jedi Kanan vaguely recognized as Agen Kolar and Saesee Tiin. _Stop it, make it stop!_ Instead, it cascaded into agonizing flashes of Windu’s bitter duel with the Emperor--until Palpatine crouched near the feet of Kanan’s Grandmaster, completely at the mercy of his shimmering, violet blade. _“The oppression of the Sith will never return. You have lost.”_

With that adamant declaration, time stuttered into a procession of holopic freeze frames while voices reverberated through Kanan’s skull: _Master Windu looming over Palpatine like an executioner. Anakin Skywalker rushing forward, tormented. Palpatine pleading to him. “I have the power to save the one you love. You must choose!” Sith lightning arcing futilely against Windu’s blade. Darth Sidious sagging--vanquished, exposed. “I’m going to end this once and for all.” Windu’s saber rising. “He’s too dangerous to be left alive.” Skywalker’s challenge. “It is not the Jedi way!” Windu, unyielding. Skywalker choosing--selfishly. “I need him!”_

Skywalker’s lightsaber ignited—and everything disrupted into gut-wrenching motion. Blue plasma slashed through Windu’s wrist. The dismembered hand, along with the violet blade still ablaze in its grip, tumbled away from the broken window. Kanan gasped in horror, his heart like the shattered permaglass. _We were all betrayed by the Chosen One._

“Noooooooo!” Kanan found himself back in Thrawn’s office, hunched over with the sickening knowledge his Grandmaster had fallen thoroughly into Palpatine’s carefully laid trap.

“Kanan…?” He lifted his head, barely registering Ezra’s alarmed face. Ezra hurried to his side in protective support--and to barricade Thrawn’s silent scrutiny. “Kanan, can you hear me?” But Kanan only whipped his head around to _something_ that called irresistibly to him from across the room.

Kanan outstretched his hand, targeting a locked permasteel cabinet. He was dimly aware of Ezra’s tentative attempt to block him--of Thrawn’s sharp countermand. With a deft twist of Kanan’s fingers, the lock released itself, and the heavy doors swung open. Kanan beckoned urgently with the Force--and a slender, metallic object soared into his grasp.

Heart thumping wildly, Kanan stared down at the black and gold lightsaber hilt in his palm. Its distinctive components gleamed, hauntingly familiar. With a _snap-hiss_ , Kanan ignited the blade. They all stared at the humming shaft of violet plasma that lit up the room. “ _Woah_ ….” Ezra breathed.

Kanan slowly turned and glared into Thrawn’s crimson eyes. They seemed aglow with cryptic satisfaction. Kanan thrust the shimmering blade directly at the Grand Admiral and growled.

“What are _you_ doing with Mace Windu’s lightsaber?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all you readers, so much and I hope you had fun with the new developments. BTW, I had outlined Kanan receiving Mace's lightsaber a while before I happened to notice some bright folks on Tumblr talking about Ezra getting it from Thrawn. Well, in my world, Ezra will just have to wait a bit longer to inherit the violet blade because methinks it belongs with Mace's grandpadawan first, lol.
> 
> My goal is to post the next chapter a lot more quickly than I did this one. It is tentatively entitled "Pirates and Purrgils and Queens, Oh My!"


	3. Pirates and Purrgil and Queens, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The intrepid adventures of Kanan and Ezra continue as the Jedi contend with Thrawn and more disturbing discoveries in Wild Space, Meanwhile, Hera is on her way to Takodana to meet Maz, while Ahsoka and Sabine search for clues with the help of mystical guides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all who are still aboard the denial train with me and reading my story! And a huge shout out to @veritascara for her beta endurance and wonderful suggestions for improvements.
> 
> Sorry for yet another long wait for this chapter, but I hope the prodigious length will help ;) I have already written parts for the next installment and my goal is to finish the story as quickly as I can, especially since the one year anniversary of Rebel's finale is not that far away.

**Chapter 3 – Pirates and Purrgils and Queens, Oh My!**

**_5 ABY_ **

**_Thrawn - Chimaera_ **

Thrawn stood in a deceptively placid stance, assessing the intent in Kanan Jarrus’s blazing, blue-green eyes. The potent thrum of the outthrust lightsaber was the only sound in the tension filled room. _The Jedi is like a player of dejarik, awaiting my move._ Thrawn permitted himself the slightest of smiles and shifted his gaze to include the deadly, violet blade within his field of vision.

“It appears you have earned my gratitude…Kanan.” _Interesting how his face radiates more brightly into the infrared._

“Is that supposed to mean something to me, Thrawn?” Jarrus’s furrowed brows quirked, but he subtly angled the lightsaber into a less threatening position.

Thrawn inclined his head minutely. “You have proven this relic from the black market of Coruscant was worthy of the substantial investment of time and personal resources that I expended to acquire it.”

Jarrus’s scowl intensified. “None of this was for your benefit, Grand Admiral.” The Jedi indignantly wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with his free hand. “The crystal called to me because my Grandmaster was betrayed—and robbed of his weapon. Now this belongs again to the Jedi.”

With calm finality, Jarrus extinguished the blade and hung the gold and black hilt on his utility belt. Bridger’s fascinated, yet troubled expression shifted as he turned to Thrawn. The young man forced a grin and crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.

“Well, Thrawn, looks like my mas—Kanan—earned his lightsaber a whole lot faster than you thought.” Bridger rubbed at the goatee that Thrawn so barely tolerated and protruded his lower lip in a mock-offended pout. “I had to work for months to get my pike.”

Thrawn’s smile turned razor thin as he studiously inspected his fingernails. “Both of you assume great liberties considering your lives and freedom remain at the sole mercy of my discretion.”

He slid his gaze upward to examine the heat now rising in Bridger’s face. In contrast, Jarrus only appraised Thrawn in brooding silence.

Thrawn placed his hands behind his back sedately. “I have only to give the order, and the two of you will be stripped of my property and thrown into the brig for the remainder of our journey.”

Bridger rolled his eyes and half-raised his hands. “Why do you always have to be so dramatic? C’mon, Grand Admiral, you’re smart—you know full well these lightsabers accomplish a lot more for you in our hands than stuck inside a locked cabinet.”

Bridger leaned in to whisper into Jarrus’s ear. Thrawn heard it faintly, but clearly: _“Plus, I’d like to see him try to take them back.”_ The corner of Jarrus’s mouth curved upward slightly.

Thrawn regarded Bridger’s impudent face. “You continue to assume far too many things, Commander…including the range of my hearing.”

Now the Commander’s face flushed, and his blue eyes darkened. “Don’t push us into a fight over this, Thrawn. You won’t win.”

Thrawn waved a dismissive hand. “Won’t I? I believe you are entirely incapable of harming a single crew member aboard this Star Destroyer after heroically saving so many of their lives.”

Bridger’s face crumpled with realization and Thrawn leaned in with a clinical stare. “But do tell me if I’m wrong, Ezra Bridger. That you _would_ be willing to decapitate Lieutenant Cri Braraz or kill any stormtrooper who has served faithfully under your command on scouting missions these past five years.”

Bridger’s conflicted eyes turned to Jarrus. “Kanan…I…” Jarrus placed a soothing hand on his padawan’s sagging shoulder.

“Ezra. You know we didn’t survive to battle what’s left of the Seventh Fleet.” Jarrus’s eyes locked with Thrawn’s own. “Look, I don’t like it any more than you do, Thrawn, but the Force wants us to work together.”

Thrawn raised an eyebrow. _The Force, indeed._  “Ah. And does this grand declaration now bring us to the subject of the Emperor’s alleged demise?”  Thrawn’s challenge to Commander Bridger’s dubious claim at the start of this meeting had been thoroughly disrupted by Jarrus’s own emotional outburst.

“It’s not alleged,” Bridger huffed. “Palpatine’s deader than a dokma in a krykna belly.”

“Perhaps.” The two syllables emerged from Thrawn’s lips dripping with skepticism. “And perhaps your intent is to undermine my leadership and my crew’s stability the further we head Coreward.” He stroked his chin, eyes narrowing. “I find it especially convenient such damaging news comes upon the heels of your master’s mysterious rescue.”

“I didn’t tell you anything before because of the way you’re acting right now!” Ezra threw his hands up in exasperation. “But Kanan said you needed to hear the truth.”

Jarrus nodded, maddeningly serene. “We have nothing to gain by lying, Thrawn. What you do with the information is up to you.”

“You are attempting to hamstring me with a no-win scenario,” Thrawn snapped as turned to pace his office ruminatively, surreptitiously scouring the body language of both Jedi for evidence of deceit regarding Palpatine and finding none. _Yet, Jedi were capable of masking all too many things._ He found himself pondering the vast differences between these ill-trained mavericks and the now legendary Anakin Skywalker. _Are Jarrus and Bridger to my benefit or my detriment?_

Thrawn resisted the urge to grind his teeth in frustration. _The Jedi have no concept of the task before us if their tidings are true._ The constant leaden weight in his stomach had only tripled in heaviness today. The merciless foes within the Unknown Regions could have already ripped their feeble rebellion to shreds _. And subjugated the conquered in ways that make your oh, so detested Empire seem like a benevolent dictatorship._

Bridger shifted impatiently, and Thrawn wrenched his thoughts back to what was imperative in the here and now. If the Emperor _was_ gone (and Thrawn could hardly deny he’d been harboring that same conclusion), then Jarrus and Bridger would be forged into tools to serve the Chiss Ascendancy against the Yuuzhan Vong and the Grysk.

Thrawn ceased pacing to pin the Jedi under his gaze. “You will speak to no one of this…news while I take it under further consideration.” With a commanding wave of his hand, Thrawn gestured for the two men to sit.

“So…you’re not going to lock us up?” Bridger slouched into the closest chair by the desk, a furtive smile playing on his lips.

Thrawn ignored it by stepping to the storage cabinet and shutting the open door. “As advisable and tempting as that is, I must prioritize more immediate concerns.”

Bridger’s mouth had the audacity to spread into a triumphant grin. Thrawn imperiously raised his hand to indicate the vacuum of space beyond the _Chimaera’s_ hull. “The most pressing of which is the hostiles invading this sector.”

Jarrus had lowered his sprawling frame into the chair next to Bridger and crossed his long legs at the ankles. “What can we do to help…Grand Admiral?”

The crosshairs of Thrawn’s mind aligned on a long ago encounter with a notorious rebel known as Nightswan. The precarious strategy of transparency had engendered an unlikely peace between the Chiss and his enemy. The current dilemma clearly necessitated a similar risk.

“You will each answer a question I once put forth to a worthy adversary.” Thrawn’s narrowed eyes tracked between master and padawan.

“Fire away.” Bridger’s thick eyebrows rose in curious anticipation.

“Very well, Commander. You and I are facing a dangerous predator intent on slaughter. Running may be impossible; the tools and weapons are limited. What are your options?”

Bridger’s vivid blue eyes glanced up at the ceiling briefly as he pondered, then he uttered with conviction. “We join our forces. Just like we’ve been doing all along.”

Thrawn smiled thinly, then turned back to Jarrus. The older Jedi had straightened up, his hands now resting on his knees. “What say you…Kanan?”

As Jarrus tilted his head and closed his eyes, Thrawn repressed a shudder, experiencing an odd sensation that he’d been probed in some way beyond visible sight.

Jarrus opened his eyes, frowning deeply. “There’s an uglier option. You could make sure the predator attacks me first, giving you more time to find a way to survive.”

“Correct you are.” Thrawn stepped behind his desk, settling into his chair purposefully.

Bridger’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what? You’re going to make us bait? That sounds pretty cold, even for you, Thrawn.”

Thrawn dimmed the office lights, aware of how his red eyes glowed brighter in the darkened room. “Once again, you are jumping to premature conclusions, Commander,” he chided as he pressed a control button.

The area above Thrawn’s pristine desk lit up with a large holographic image of an aging Clone War trooper, piloting a fighter craft of unknown alien design. Jarrus’s teal eyes narrowed instantly, while Bridger looked perplexed.

“First witness the predator we are up against, Jedi…and perhaps you will understand why I’ve come to refer to them as the Nihilum.”

Bridger and Jarrus watched intently as the holorecording continued to play.

“My original designation was CC-Five-Six-Seven-Five. I am a defector of the Grand Army of the Republic. My chosen name is Sulis. I leave this message as an urgent warning for the Senate and the Jedi—or whatever entity may now oversee the civilized galaxy...”

**_Ahsoka - Lothal_ **

Ahsoka stood a few feet from the cliff’s edge, looking out at the wide expanse of grasslands and spirals of stony hills. She opened herself to the unique Force energies of the planet, focusing on connecting with the enigmatic entity who had identified itself as _Dume_ . Ahsoka stretched her senses ever-outward for a response...with the ironic hope that  the one she sought with such determination would not ( _could not_ ) answer her call.

A few feet away, Sabine ran her hand impatiently through her cropped hair, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t understand what we’re still doing here, Ahsoka. What are you expecting that can help us on our mission?”

Ahsoka kept an inner part of herself in search mode while addressing the query of her companion. “It’s hard to explain, Sabine.” She glanced back at the dark maw of the cave behind them. “After studying the wall paintings, I’m sensing more and more that our journey is not so much about finding Ezra as it is about what we must accomplish after he’s found.”

Sabine’s almond eyes narrowed in puzzlement. _Accompanied by suspicion_. “Are you talking about whatever Yoda and the Daughter told you to do?”

“Yes.” Ahsoka sighed. “And no.”

“Ugh, you sound just like…Kanan.” The young Mandalorian folded her arms across her armored chest.

Ahsoka shifted her staff as she searched for words to explain what remained partially clouded to her own mind. “I can only say I felt invited to this place.” _Called, rather._ “Maybe because it was the last location you shared significant time with both Kanan and Ezra.”

Sabine bit her lip, and her arms dropped to her sides. “I haven’t been back for a long time.” Her voice came out almost as a whisper.

The wind blew around them, fluttering Ahsoka’s cloak as she moved closer to place a comforting hand on Sabine’s graceful shoulder. _Softness inside her, but no weakness_. “I’m sorry if coming here causes you pain, Sabine. A few moments more, then we’ll go. I promise.”

In answer, Sabine nodded, then moved away to crouch by the edge and peer into the distance where the bright hulls of Ahsoka’s T-6 shuttle and the X-wing escorts glinted in the sunlight.

Though Ahsoka’s core mind still signaled repeatedly to Dume, her surface thoughts drifted to the ancient art gallery that adorned the cave’s inner walls. Her heart twisted at all the power and potential alluded to the child depicted in those paintings. _Caleb Dume_. If only his fiery sacrifice hadn’t been necessary, if the boy who’d been forged into Kanan Jarrus were still here to know his own son, to share more time with all of his _Ghost_ family. _The life of happiness that could have been for Kanan and Hera…might that have existed for Anakin and Padme if things gone differently for them as well?_

But futile wishes did nothing to change what was. Like the wind sweeping through the sea of grasses below her, Order 66 had brutally scoured the Jedi from the galaxy. Ten thousand bright, shining lights of potential brutally extinguished. If not for Barriss Offee’s terrorist convolutions that led to the Jedi Council’s false accusations against Ahsoka—followed by her own renouncement of the Order—she’d have perished herself by Anakin’s side. _By his own hand, far more likely_.

For what felt like the thousandth time, Ahsoka pondered: _Had I stayed in the Order, could I have prevented Anakin’s fall?_ The same answer always surged in its wake. _Not even Anakin’s beloved Padme could save him from the Dark Side._

Ahsoka released a long breath, conjuring up a different Skywalker’s face. _He seems to possess none of his father’s self-destructive vanity_. How painful it had been to see Luke eagerly listen to her (deliberately) lighthearted stories of Anakin and Padme before Ahsoka had to depart the New Republic base for Lothal. If Ahsoka survived the hazardous journey before her, she would share a wider spectrum of memories with the bright-eyed Jedi. As for Luke’s dark-haired twin sister, well, time would tell how much of the Force…and her true heritage…Princess Leia would embrace.

A soft, insistent growling wrested Ahsoka’s mind fully to the present. Sabine was rising slowly to her feet to adopt a defensive stance, her gloved hands almost touching her blasters. “Ahsoka…”

Calmly turning, Ahsoka came face to muzzle with an enormous, white Loth-wolf, his lips pulled back to reveal glistening, sharp teeth. Sith-like eyes bored into her own. “You’re not Dume,” Ahsoka heard herself whisper. In reply, the growl increased in volume. Ahsoka shifted her body carefully to stand between the Loth-wolf and Sabine.

“I haven’t seen the white wolf since Ezra vanished.” To Ahsoka’s dismay, Sabine’s hushed voice was now to the side of her.

“Keep your distance, Sabine.”

“ _I'm_ the one who knows how he fights,” Sabine muttered. “Be glad we’re not stormtroopers.”

Ahsoka’s lips curved slightly. _I should know better than to keep a Mandalorian out of a battle_. She slowly lowered her staff, prepared to use it as a weapon if necessary.

The Loth-wolf’s eyes tracked the staff’s glimmering circle tip for a tense moment, then he ceased growling. He sank back on his well-muscled haunches and lowered his fearsome head in a more tolerant manner. _This wolf recognizes the staff?_

Intuitively, Ahsoka extended her hand and gently placed it on the wolf’s forehead. “I’m Ahsoka Tano. Do you have a message for me?”

 _From Dume?_ Ahsoka’s mind added the name that she hesitated to say aloud, as if speaking it would manifest the very being she wanted to be far, far from Lothal.

The Loth-wolf shook his thickly furred head from side to side while Ahsoka’s thoughts tumbled with garbled images. All she could decipher in the chaos were two emphatic words before the wolf pulled away from Ahsoka’s touch to rise back to his feet.

Once again, the creature’s Sith-like eyes bored into Ahsoka’s own while his massive jaws opened to speak one word: “BENDUUUUU.” And then the Loth-wolf stepped silently backwards until he vanished at the dark mouth of the cave.

Ahsoka gripped her staff tightly, breathing deeply to calm the hammering of her heart, lowering its pulse to match the cadence of the Loth-wolf’s two precious words. _NOT HERE._ _NOT HERE. NOT HERE._ Ahsoka felt her hopes rising higher with each repetition.

Wide-eyed, Sabine joined Ahsoka and asked in a halting voice, “Did…did that wolf actually say…Bendu?”

A smile emerged on Ahsoka’s lips. “Looks like we’ll be setting course for Atollon.”

**_Kanan – Chimaera_ **

Kanan drained the last of his caf, wishing it was a bottomless cup to get him through this ceaseless, almost tortuous briefing. The deceptively soft cadence of Thrawn’s voice had wormed its way deep into Kanan’s brain, bombarding it with data that presumably ( _very soon please)_ would loop back to the attacking alien horde. _The Nihilum indeed_. That final image of the incoming swarm was practically burned into Kanan’s retinas.

After the clone’s ghastly transmission, Thrawn had seen fit to ply Kanan and Ezra with light refreshments to recover somewhat—emphasis on the _somewhat_ —while Lieutenant Braraz joined them in the ever-so-scintillating meeting. The Devaronian now manned the projector controls while the Grand Admiral discussed an almost wall-to-wall holographic star map dominating his office.

Absorbing this day’s onslaught of information would have been difficult enough without Kanan’s emotional insides all battered and bruised.  He took a deep breath. _Pay attention to the now._ There was nothing that could be done about the revelations from Mace Windu’s lightsaber crystal.

As if aware of Kanan’s distraction, Thrawn raised his voice. “For quite some time, the astronavigation team has calculated that our position lies within the southwestern edge of the galaxy.” The Grand Admiral paced to the far end of the map where the outermost spiral arm of stars met the void beyond.

“The team’s been hindered in pinpointing the Chimaera’s location more precisely because—for reasons yet unknown to us—a number of red hypergiant stars in these sectors do not align with the charts available in our data banks.”

Kanan stiffened. A ripple of disquieting energy emanated from Dume while Thrawn’s blue hand swept elegantly through a series of flagged, red dots that originated at the far edge of the spiral arm and oscillated Coreward.

“The team is monitoring each hypergiant in an attempt to determine why their current luminosity and spectral analysis varies so greatly from our records of the region.”

But Kanan’s gaze was tugged much farther east: There floated Mustafar, where so much had gone wrong. Like a veil lifted from his eyes, Kanan suddenly understood Ahsoka’s shadowed eyes, her odd behavior that all started with Darth Vader’s relentless pursuit of the rebels on Lothal. Ahsoka had figured out whose face was under that hideous mask _. Anakin Skywalker, the kriffin’ Chosen One, if whispers of that prophecy I heard at the Temple were true_. Ahsoka’s very own master had betrayed the entire Jedi Order just so Palpatine could save his… _lover?_ She must have been utterly devastated. _And hellbent on stopping him._

The sound of his grinding teeth snapped Kanan back to find Ezra’s blue eyes probing his own. _Tell you later_ , Kanan mouthed grimly to his concerned not-padawan just before the star map zoomed in on the grid where an avatar of the _Chimaera_ floated like a tiny, insignificant triangle.

“We’ve been passing through the Sintuuian sector, on a direct course for this nebula.” Thrawn pointed out an immense gas cloud hundreds of light years across. The glowing dust was filled with a staggering array of bright crescents that resembled sharp-edged weapons flung through the heavens by an angry god.

“These are young stars being ejected from the central cluster at over two hundred thousand kilometers per hour.” Thrawn’s eyes glowed softly with satisfaction. “The astronavigators are confident this unusual configuration is the Boomerang nebula.”

“So…this is all good news, right?” Ezra asked, perking up. “If the navicomputer now knows where we are, the ship can make safer and longer jumps.”

Thrawn rubbed his chin as he addressed Ezra. “The Boomerang is a formidable obstacle, Commander Bridger. The ejecting stars generate immensely powerful magnetic fields and radiation that impedes not only our forward progress, but any attempts at long range communication.”

Braruz was crunching numbers on her datapad. “Sir, if we circumnavigate the nebula, it will take approximately six months longer to be clear of its magnetic interference. We could then set course for Seoul. Its population is minimal, but the locals should possess a long-range communications system.”

Thrawn gazed intently at the oscillating pattern of flagged, red dots. “The problem, Lieutenant, is that we do not have six months to spare.”

The ripple of unease from Dume intensified, and Kanan’s gut clenched. “What do you mean, Thrawn?”

The Grand Admiral almost caressed the flagged red dot that floated closest to the _Chimaera._ “The team has reported this hypergiant’s luminosity began decreasing measurably only one rotation ago.”

His crimson eyes surveyed Kanan and Ezra as if to assess the reaction of his now rapt audience. “My analysis of this recent development—in combination with the pattern of these similar hypergiants—indicate the phenomenon is actively on its way Coreward.”

The Grand Admiral spread his hands and arched his eyebrows. “I am curious to know…what do you make of it, Jedi?”

Kanan and Ezra eyed each other, then both reached out with the Force with intense concentration. For a long moment, the only sounds in the office were the faint hum of the holoprojector and the quiet breathing of its occupants.

“I don’t feel anything, Kanan.” Ezra broke the quiet, disconcerted. “If this dimming comes from something natural, it should resonate in the Force.”

Kanan cleared his dry throat, suppressing the growing fear that wanted to rampage through his insides. “I think we all know one very unnatural thing it could be.”

Thrawn rested his hands behind his back, but Kanan sensed the pulse of agitation beneath his serene facade. “Whether or not it is the Nihilum, I want the Chimaera out of its path as quickly as safety protocols allow.”

Lieutenant Braruz’ pink face had paled. _So we’re not the only ones who just got hit with the bad news._

“Sir, the Chimaera must traverse the nebula within less than three standard cycles, or the radiation levels are likely to penetrate our shields and hull.” She consulted her data pad again, brow furrowing even further. “Until full repairs can be made in a full-service drydock, many of our systems remain vulnerable.”

The office communication system pinged. Stiffening with irritation, Thrawn acknowledged the call. “What is it, Captain Makeri?”

A gruff female voice responded deferentially. “Grand Admiral, we have reached the debarkation coordinates for the Jedi’s mission.  Long range sensors indicate the gas giant nearest to the system’s star has the highest concentrations of Clouzen thirty-six. We’ve detected no evidence yet of any mining facilities or other sentient structures.”

“Understood, Captain. Hold position and await further orders.”

“Aye, sir.” The system pinged off.

Ezra had leapt upward to begin pacing, a plan lighting up his face. “If that planet _is_ a regular feeding ground for the purrgil, I might be able to call in at least a couple of them to help get us through the Boomerang.”

The Grand Admiral’s mouth set in a thin line. _Oh, I’m sure he’s thrilled at the thought of all of Ezra’s tentacled friends latching onto his precious Star Destroyer_. Despite his tension, Kanan had to stifle a chuckle before Thrawn finally gave a terse nod.

“You have six hours to attempt this strategy and rejoin the Chimaera.”

Six _hours_ ? Kanan exchanged a silent thought with Ezra. _The Grand Admiral isn’t kidding about hightailing it out of here._

Thrawn gestured for Braruz to shut down the holoprojector. “Lieutenant, you will find the rendezvous coordinates downloaded in the shuttle’s computer.”

“Sir…” the Devaronian bit at her lip. “If Commander Bridger is unsuccessful in, ah, deploying the purrgil—”

“I will call upon our military guests to swiftly guide the Chimaera through the Boomerang.”

_Wait. What?_

Thrawn’s red eyes slid to Ezra. “After all, Commander Bridger has already proven quite useful in aiding our pilots through a number of minor anomalies.”

Kanan’s pride in his not-padawan briefly relaxed his tense innards. He gave Ezra a quick wink of approval, and Ezra’s cheeks pinked up.

The Grand Admiral now turned toward Kanan with a challenging gleam in his eye.

“The Sith Lord, Darth Vader, once single-handedly piloted my Star Destroyer at high velocities under extreme duress.” The Chiss spread his hands. “Certainly you, _Master_ Jarrus—who has traveled so inexplicably through time and space—are capable of such a feat?”

Kanan’s teeth wanted to grind again, this time with some part of Thrawn’s flesh between them. _He’s no Skywalker._ Rex’s all too frequent assessment echoed in Kanan’s head. _After what Mace’s crystal showed me, I thank the Force I’m not, old friend._

Quickly recalibrating his thoughts, Kanan called forth a somehow incredibly pleasant memory from his sightless years: Guiding Hera through blinding fog on Jalindi while the _Ghost_ corkscrewed at breakneck speed between the canyon’s pillars of rocky death—as chasing TIE fighters tried to outdo each other in blasting the ship to smithereens.

“Hmm.” Kanan scratched at his incoming goatee, then looked up at Thrawn. “It sounds like fun.”

Thrawn actually looked taken aback for one split second. Kanan tried not to smirk over getting under the Chiss’s almost impenetrable blue skin…and almost succeeded.

_**Hera – Lothal** _

Hera stopped abruptly in the contained chaos of Capital City’s spaceport when she realized Jacen was no longer beside her. The facility had been significantly expanded in the past five years, testament to the efforts of Sabine and Ryder Azadi to not only rebuild, but to improve Lothal’s infrastructure and its importance in the sector after the Empire’s humiliating expulsion from the planet.

“Jacen?” Hera’s sudden turn flung her lekku in a half circle. She finally saw her wayward son smiling and waving from where he stood petting a bevy of stray Loth-cats that sprawled on a large cargo crate. Hera retraced her steps with a sigh of annoyance.

“Now you be good and play nice, you hear?” Jacen was saying as he scratched behind the brindle ears of the biggest Loth-cat.

Hera took a firm grip on Jacen’s hand to lead him away from the meowing cats. “Jacen, love, we don’t have time to say goodbye to every tooka along the way.”

They entered one of the largest bays, where the _Ghost_ , Ahsoka’s T-6 shuttle, and the two X-wing escorts were docked in close proximity. Zeb waved over at Hera and Jacen as he pushed a stack of supply crates up the _Ghost’s_ cargo ramp. Nearby, Kallus stacked more crates on an antigrav lift. AP-5 hovered, clutching his datapad while shaking his visored head.

“No, no, no, this is all wrong.” The droid gestured for Zeb to come back. “You’ll need access to those perishable supplies more quickly. If you load them first, as only an imbecile would, you’ll have to move all of this—” he jabbed a finger at Kallus’ crates, “—out of the way.”

Hera sighed. _Here we go._ Zeb stopped to glare down imperiously. “No, I won’t because _you’ll_ be doing all the moving,” he grunted. “Now stop your dithering and make sure our inventory is complete. What really matters is whether or not everything actually gets on the blasted ship in the first place.”

AP-5 planted a hand on his hip socket. “Might I remind you, Lasat, that my primary purpose is to serve as an academic tutor to our captain’s offspring, not as your mindless minion.”

“You’re a glorified babysitter, that’s what you are,” snorted Zeb.

“And highly more competent in that capacity than you are,” droned back AP-5.

Kallus took the words out of Hera’s mouth as he rapidly pushed his stack of crates up the ramp. “Will the two of you ever stop your bickering—you’ve been going at it all morning, and I’m about to sign on as Hondo Ohnaka’s crew to escape.”

At that, Jacen yanked excitedly out of Hera’s grip. “Great idea, Uncle Kallus!” Ignoring Hera’s protests, he ran closer to the open bay doors to yell over to an adjacent hanger. “Hey, Uncle Hondo!”

Inside, Hondo and Melch were busy offloading dubious merchandise from their vividly painted shuttle _, Last Chance_ , to an equally dubious looking buyer. The wiry Weequay captain glanced over to see Jacen gesturing from himself to the mortified, pink-cheeked Kallus.

“We can be your gunners!” Jacen pantomimed the firing of heavy weapons. Hera rubbed her aching forehead.

Hondo bestowed her son with an approving wave and grin. “But, of course, Jacen Syndulla! And may your Jedi youngling aim with my canons match those rocks you threw so accurately through the school master’s window!” Still grinning, Hondo turned back to his impatient customer.

Hera set her fists on her hips, narrowing her eyes at her crewmen above. “Rocks…?”

Zeb slapped Kallus on the shoulder as the human slunk past him on the ramp. “Karabast. Hera wasn’t supposed to know about that.”

“I should have locked that old pirate up in the Emperor’s dungeons before I turned traitor,” muttered Kallus as he disappeared into the cargo hold.

“None of this would have transpired had _I_ been in charge, but I’d been sent out for supplies.” AP-5’s speaker grid seemed to flare a brighter red in disdain as he jerked his thumb at Zeb.

“We can always ship you back to Hosnian Prime to keep decrypting Imperial files,” Zeb retorted with a sideways grin. Chopper emerged from the cargo hold to blat profanely in agreement.

Hera ignored the droids’ ensuing argument while Jacen crept up to her side, eyes wide and innocent as a Loth-kitten’s. “Remember, Mama, you told me I needed to practice controlling my Force throws.”

“Not next to a _window_ , Jacen Caleb Syndulla!”

“Uh, actually, Hera, he wasn’t anywhere near the school master’s quarters.” Zeb had fled down the ramp to evade the round of insults flying between AP-5 and Chopper. The Lasat raised a mighty arm to rub the fur on the back of his head. “I thought we were safe out on the playing field.”

Now Jacen’s teal eyes practically gleamed. _Oh, that look. So like his father._ She had yet to develop a defense against it.

“Looks like I’m getting stronger, Mama!  I wonder how strong Dad was when he was five?”

Hera gave up the battle ( _for now, she told herself firmly_ ) and chuckled. “I’m sure he was just as destructive as you, little love.”  She hunkered down to kiss his forehead. “And, no, you can’t fly with, uh, Captain Hondo… _I_ need you for my co-pilot.”

Jacen nodded in reluctant surrender, then grinned at something behind her. “Auntie ‘Bine!” Jacen raced off as Sabine, Ahsoka and her two X-wing pilots, Hyrran Tong and Nuada Taluka, entered the hanger bay.

Hera poked Zeb in the chest. “You and Kallus are not completely off the hook.”

“Hey, we already paid for the windows,” Zeb retorted with a half-smile before he strutted off to say his own hellos.

Hera watched Sabine pull the very wriggly Jacen into a hug while Ahsoka’s placid face lit up with a smile. The Togruta seemed…less burdened somehow. The cliff cave must have provided useful information after all. Hera had avoided the location for years and saw no need to revisit it. Like Rion’s moons, it was on her list of places that remained too painful to face in person now, perhaps ever.

Now Jacen was practically dancing around the heels of Tong and Taluka, firing off a zillion questions about their X-wings. The grins of Hera’s former trainee pilots, and the easy laughter among the group—even the unrelenting squabbling between Chopper and AP-5—brought a lump to Hera’s throat.   _If only we could all stick together for this mission to find Ezra. What if this is the last time we ever see each other again?_

Hera took a calming breath, accepting full well that the safety and needs of her son came first. That was a given, and to Maz Kanata’s castle she’d go. But…Hera decided she wouldn’t be acting at all like a cuckoo hen to press Sabine and Ahsoka into committing to a number of check-ins during their search. Perhaps even a rendezvous with the _Ghost_ at Takodana. After all, the pirate queen’s planet wasn’t all _that_ far from the sector of space they planned to investigate. Just logistical, rational, plans of action. Hera Syndulla had not been made a general for nothing, after all.

A _ZZZAAPPP_ from behind derailed her train of thought. Inevitably, Chopper had rolled down the ramp to threaten AP-5 with his electroprod. “Oh, one of these nights when you’re recharging, I will permanently detach you from that accursed weapon,” AP-5 swore from behind the safety of a crate.

“All right, you two, that’s enough! Get back to work.” Hera pointed upward, where Kallus (with the intelligence of the former ISB agent that he was) had wisely remained out of the fray and was presumably rearranging supplies deep inside the cargo bay. It was time to get her own mission rolling.

While the droids complied with their most begrudging levels of obedience, Hera made her way over to the oblivious group still chatting happily under the bright red wings of Ahsoka’s shuttle. Hera’s lips lifted in a bittersweet smile as Sabine and Ahsoka welcomed her warmly. She had many, many goodbye hugs to give and receive.

**_Ezra – Sintuuian Sector_ **

Ezra held Kanan’s arm to keep him at the foot of the shuttle’s ramp while Lieutenant Braruz disappeared inside. PZ-5 was already aboard ensuring nothing had been overlooked for their brief mission to the planet with a purrgil-enticing atmosphere of Clouzon-36.

“Something wrong?” Kanan turned, and Ezra was caught off guard by the way his not-master’s teal eyes caught the light. Ezra suddenly realized his subconscious remained irrationally braced for Kanan’s blind, milky gaze to return, that his restored sight ( _maybe Kanan himself_ ) was a magical gift the Force would take back as it deemed necessary.

“Ezra?” Kanan sighed in rueful understanding and clasped Ezra’s shoulder before speaking much more quietly. “I know. I should have told you about those lightsaber visions, but I didn’t realize what was going on. I didn’t want to worry you on top of everything else.”

“Just…just don’t hold back if something is hurting you, Kanan. I can sense you’re still really shaken up.”

Kanan rubbed at the back of his neck, working on a taut muscle. “Look, I promise to fill you in on everything when we have less company.” Kanan indicated the shuttle with a tilt of head, plus a trio of pilots boarding their TIE Defenders to the far side. “Let’s focus on the mission at hand to make sure it’s a successful one.”

“Kanan, I promise to do my best—but you know as well as I do that purrgil pretty much do whatever they want.”

Kanan’s mouth flattened and he edged Ezra further from the ramp. “Yeah, well, so does Thrawn.” He pretended to inspect his blaster while almost whispering to Ezra. “The Grand Admiral seems to be awfully chatty about filling us in on things, which means only a couple of things in my book.”

Ezra pulled out his own blaster to inspect its charge. “Let me guess. It’s nothing good.”

Kanan shot him a mirthless grin. “One, Thrawn is pretty sure we’re all going to die anyway so it doesn’t matter what he reveals to us at this point. And two, if we somehow do make it out of Wild Space alive, he’ll make sure we don’t make it off this _ship_ alive to reveal anything to the Rebellion—or whatever the Rebellion’s become.”

Ezra felt his stomach curdle. “Do you really think he’d end us, after everything I’ve done to help him and the crew?” Seeing Kanan’s arching eyebrow, Ezra ran a hand through his cropped hair. “Okaaaay, so I admit he could still be a little cranky that I _am_ the reason he’s out here in the first place.”

Kanan shoved his blaster into its holster. “Ezra, Thrawn lives and breathes tactics and strategy.” He now carefully, almost reverently, inspected his newly acquired lightsaber. “He’ll always do whatever that Chiss brain of his computes is for his greater good. It’s nothing personal.”

Ezra sighed. “I know, Kanan. I guess I keep hoping he’s capable of changing.”

Kanan reattached the saber hilt to his belt with a flourish. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to stay optimistic, kid.” Stepping onto the ramp, Kanan spread his arms akimbo and winked at Ezra. “Look at the effect you’ve had on me.”

Ezra followed Kanan into the shuttle, his lips tugging into a lopsided smile. “Hey, you’re not supposed to call me kid anymore.”

Inside the cockpit, Ezra noticed the pink of Braruz’ cheeks deepen as Kanan brushed past her to take the gunner’s station instead of the co-pilot seat. _Now that’s interesting_. The glances of desire Kanan received at times from others (not always humanoid species like Hera, either) hadn’t been lost on a teenage Ezra throughout their missions _…_ but the lieutenant’s reaction was more like embarrassment. _Did I miss something?_

Braruz sat gingerly nearby as Ezra’s co-pilot while PZ-5 took the operations station. Their departure from the _Chimaera_ was routine, and Ezra’s heart surged with a feeling of freedom as he zoomed the sleek _Lambda_ away from the lumbering Star Destroyer. _Well, as free as that escort of TIE Defenders on my flank allows._

Ezra and Kanan exchanged a quick look. Any monkey-lizard ideas ( _oh, say, like an ill-advised escape attempt_ ) and the TIE Defenders’ bristling guns and missiles would take instant aim on their shuttle. Ezra snuck a glance at Lieutenant Braruz, whose expression was reasonably calm considering she had to know she’d be vaporized with the Jedi and PZ-5 if Thrawn found it necessary.

After Ezra initiated the jump into hyperspace, Kanan stretched his long arms over his head a moment to crack his back. “I’m going to meditate for a bit, see if I can pick up anything ahead of us.”

“Sure, Kanan,” Ezra teased. “I’ll try to fly gently so you can enjoy your nap.”  Kanan managed a half-hearted glare before his eyelids slipped shut. Concern gnawed at Ezra’s gut again. _He looks so tired. Those visions were probably keeping him awake for days._

Ezra turned back to the wash of hyperspace, trying not to feel self-conscious with Braruz on board. She’d be documenting his every move for Thrawn, especially any mistakes. _Hmm, how to distract someone born with a magnifying glass in her baby Devaronian hands?_

“So, Braruz, what’s your theory on the holo you watched with us on the repeat? Do you think the clone trooper’s wife is right and the Nihilum destroy people because they don’t like how we’re connected to the Force?”

The lieutenant hissed at Ezra. “The information in that transmission is currently top secret, Commander.”  She side-eyed PZ-5 sharply.

 _Whoops._ _I’m so used to Pee-Zee being in on my secrets, it just slipped out._ Ezra returned Braruz’s glare. “I don’t see the big deal. Thrawn’s going to drag Pee-Zee into analyzing that holo sooner rather than later—and you know it.”

“That’s not the point—and _you_ know it.”

PZ-5’s visored face swiveled from Braruz to Ezra as if offended. “Do you wish to wipe this conversation from my memory, Master Ezra? Or shut me—”

“What? No! Just stay working on ops, okay?”

“As you wish, Master Ezra.”  

_Yep, she’s definitely offended._

Braruz crossed her arms and looked away. Ezra could still hear her muttering, _“Fine._ It’s just a droid anyway.”

 _Great. Add insult to injury._ Ezra huffed in the awkward silence. “Well…think you can at least share some _not_ so secret theories to pass the time, Lieutenant? You know, like maybe one based on all the temples, museums and galleries we found blasted to rubble.” His words had a more sarcastic bite than intended.

Braruz regarded him a moment, as if weighing whether or not he was capable of understanding anything truly complex. _It’s the way Sabine used to look at me, before everything we went through as a team._ How he missed Sabine’s sparking, unpredictable moods, her brilliant mind. But mostly because Sabine knew and accepted him for who he truly was, while he’d learned the Mandalorian’s often whip-sharp tongue belonged to a person he could trust in completely.

Ezra sensed a similar core of steel in Braruz, but in the Devaronian, it lay at the center of a quiet, icy moon while Sabine’s was wrapped within a fiercely glowing and uncatchable comet. Ezra sighed, wondering where Sabine was and what she was doing. _Did it involve Ketsu?_

“I actually have several theories, Commander, all of which could be entirely wrong.”

Ezra made an effort to look and sound inviting. “So, tell me. It’s not like I’m going to grade you or anything.” Braruz snuck a glance back at the meditating ( _snoring?_ ) Kanan, then over to PZ-5, who was tapping away on her station’s console.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” PZ-5 droned methodically. “I’m just a droid, after all.”

Braruz’s sigh sounded a bit chagrined. “One theory…I think it is possible we take the Force for granted.” At Ezra’s surprised look, she continued more firmly, “By that, I mean how strongly the Force’s energy appears to interact with us in our galaxy.”

She gestured at the transparisteel viewport. “Perhaps in other galaxies, the way that life and the Force’s energy evolved did not result in our type of interaction. If these Nihilum intruders are from such a galaxy, it is likely they find the Force in ours confusing and threatening.”

Ezra mulled that over, gnawing his lip. He’d honestly never given much thought to galaxies outside his own. _I didn’t exactly have the time or luxury…or education_. Not that Hera and Kanan didn’t do their best in the middle of a life-threatening rebellion.

“Huh. Interesting. What else you got?”

“Well, our galaxy has endured millennia of wars involving the Force. The Jedi, the Sith, and countless other sects and religions based upon it. Each with their secretive, exclusive, and controlling philosophies.” Her voice had turned sharper than usual.

“The aliens could be the product of such Force related wars in their own galaxy. Perhaps the androids were programmed to recognize and destroy potential Force enemies as soon as they were encountered…and it resulted in an apocalyptic confrontation that ended all sentient life.” Her eyelids dipped half-closed.

Ezra felt a chill down his spine. This was all hitting a bit too close to home based on what little he knew of the Jedi versus the Sith, the Clone Wars, and now the Rebellion versus the Empire. The last thing their galaxy needed now was a new player at the overcrowded war table.

Artificial intelligence was…unpredictable in Ezra’s experience—and it mostly went by the name of Chopper. That maniacal little rust bucket had taken out thousands of Imperials pretty much on his own (and frequently without much provocation). Ezra’s chill escalated into a shiver. _If we’re being attacked by a horde of super Choppers, we are in major trouble_.

“Am I giving you a headache?” Braruz’s voice sounded amused.

Ezra realized he was rubbing his temples. “What? Oh, no, not at all.” He bobbed his head in what he hoped looked like enthusiastic contemplation. “It’s just that…that’s all great food for thought.” He raised a finger almost apologetically. “I’ll be honest, though—I hope you’re completely wrong.”

To his surprise, she actually smiled. “Those aren’t even my most alarming theories, Commander.”

“Ehhh, how about we save those for another time? I’d kind of like to explore a less nerve-wracking subject of conversation.”

“And what might that be?” The Devaronian crossed her arms and tilted her horn nubs at an angle that echoed Vizago’s almost constant state of skepticism.

“ _You_. Such as, how did you wind up in service to the Empire?”

“Why do you even care, Ezra Bridger?” Her brow furrowed with suspicion and bemusement.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I think it’s only fair that I know something about you, seeing as how you know so much about me.”

“Hah. For your honesty, I will tell you something…” She tapped her angular chin a moment. “I doubt you know much of my planet or my people’s history, but what matters to our conversation is that Devaronians have a higher frequency of Force-sensitivity than any other species.”

“Really? Why do you suppose that is?” Ezra tried to imagine Vizago meditating in quiet contemplation like Kanan…and found it impossible. He coughed to suppress a rising chuckle.

“Your question is one I have been researching for quite some time.” Braruz’s purple eyes narrowed in thought. “The complete answer remains elusive, but I believe it likely involves a combination of my species’ genetics and a very powerful vergence in the Force on the planet. The Jedi even built the Temple of Eedit there to train all the Force-sensitive children on Devaron.”

“So that’s why you enjoy studying me—I mean, the Jedi—so much.” Ezra felt his mouth quirk in a teasing smile.

The lieutenant eyed him back coolly. “My own family tree has had its share of Jedi through the centuries, Commander Bridger.”

Ezra remained silent with surprise. _Her? Related to Jedi?_

As if in response to his possibly offensive expression, the sharpness in Braruz’s voice returned. “It was a blessing I was not born one of them. I prefer to unlock the scientific secrets of what has been touted as magic—and hoarded for millennia by a powerful few over the superstitious many.”

Ezra felt a defensive stab in his heart at Braruz’s heated outburst. “The Jedi aren’t like that.”

She turned away to add in a softer tone, “But they were purged in yet another war to control something that belongs to everyone.” She glared back at Ezra. “Had I been born with the Force, I would not be here to study it. I’d have been executed with my great uncle and cousin.”

Ezra now felt the stab extend to his gut. “So….now you’re working for the ones who killed your family.” _I can’t imagine Vizago doing that either_.

Braruz’s eyes shone like hard amethyst. “Life has made me a very practical person, Ezra Bridger. If you cannot beat your enemy, you join them. And then from inside your enemy you make things better however you can.”

“Is that what you’re doing with Thrawn? Making the galaxy better by helping the Empire crush you and your world under its heel?” The words tore out of him, brimming with disappointment rather than disdain. _What had I hoped to hear? That she’s a Rebel spy like Kallus or some other nonsense?_  

Braruz scowled fiercely. “The Grand Admiral is a venerable mentor—and a brilliant, selfless leader in a time of power-hungry fools! That much should be obvious, especially to _you_ , Jedi.” She waved Ezra away like a mettlesome stingfly, then targeted the viewport with her righteous glare.

Ezra blinked, something coming clear to him in the Force. _Lieutenant Cri Braruz serves Thrawn, not the Empire. Whatever he orders, she’ll comply. Not out of fear or love or desire, but because her choices feel justified standing by his side._ What would this mean for him and Kanan?

The proximity alert forced Ezra to shift focus to the mission at hand. “Coming up on the gas giant…Pee-Zee, open up Channel Zero and transmit.”

From behind Braruz, Kanan abruptly called out, “Ezra, stay sharp!”

Ezra gasped as an intense chill of pain, loss and sorrow surged through him. He whipped his head around to find Kanan alert and very pale, his eyes full of alarm. _He feels it, too!_

“Pee-Zee! Shields at maximum.” Ezra opened communications with the flanking TIE pilots. “Leo, Capra, Viper—everyone—on your toes.” Ezra hit the controls to drop them out of hyperspace.

“Acknowledged, Commander,” transmitted group leader Leo with an edge in her voice.

“What is it, what is wrong?” Braruz was bracing for combat in the co-pilot seat.

The glow of hyperspace abruptly halted into inky black. PZ-5’s head tilted in confusion. “Scanners show no signs of life, unknown spacecraft, or other structures ahead, Master Ezra.”

All was quiet as the tense quartet peered through the transparisteel. Directly ahead, Leo’s TIE angled toward the hazy, blue-green gas giant that orbited the system’s mid-sized star. The planet seemed almost lit from within, its layers upon layers of atmosphere like magic smoke trapped inside a crystal ball.

PZ-5’s fingers click-clacked rapidly over her control panel. “Master Ezra, the planet’s magnetic field is extremely strong. Between that and the system’s star, I’m having difficulty maintaining consistent readings with our instrumentation.”

“Acknowledged, Pee-Zee. Just…don’t let anything fry.”

Ezra cautiously steered forward, guided by a mysterious grief that dragged at his heart. His throat felt dry, his eyes wet. Reluctantly, he turned the shuttle’s yoke in the direction that hurt the worst. The TIE Defenders banked with him in protective formation.

And then Ezra saw it. Immense, familiar shapes silhouetted against the planet’s deceptively peaceful glow. “Kanan?” His voice cracked. “Look over there.”

Kanan’s response was grim. “I see them.”

A flock of dozens of purrgil drifted majestically above the swirling atmosphere. Their incredibly long tentacles trailed gracefully behind their enormous bodies. The TIE‘s instantly shielded the _Lambda_ as if it were a stray nerf headed for a rancor. Gun turrets rotated rapidly into position.

“Stand by, pilots—do not fire. I repeat, do _not_ fire.”

Ezra reached out with his senses to communicate with the purrgil and received back…nothing.

Feeling nauseous, Ezra navigated the shuttle closer. The limp creatures surrounding them were completely crisscrossed with heat-seared wounds, injuries that only an extremely high energy weapon—or weapons—could have inflicted.

Through the Force, Ezra sensed these purrgil were part of same flock that had spirited away the _Chimaera_ from the skies of Lothal. All the wide-set eyes Ezra remembered gleaming with intelligence and bioluminescence during that surprise attack were now as dull and gray as ash. _They must have been keeping tabs on me after all_. And now every single adult and youngling were dead.

Grief welled up in Ezra’s heart like the tears that stung his eyes. “Kanan, who could do this?”

Braruz dragged her eyes from the carnage floating around them to enter data into her pad. “I don’t understand. The Nihilum have been killing sentients, not creatures.” Her voice was tremulous.

“So far,” Kanan muttered. He’d closed his eyes again and stretched out his hand. “I sense this happened about a standard cycle ago.”

Braruz stiffened. “Whoever they battled could still be nearby.” She grabbed the yoke on her console. “Pee-Zee Five, complete your scans as quickly as possible. We need to report all evidence to the Chimaera.”

“Wait!” Ezra stiffened. _Something is calling_. “I’m picking up a distress signal.”  He exchanged a hopeful glance with Kanan. “Do you hear it?”

“Just barely.” Kanan’s expression was strained.

“Master Ezra?” PZ-5’s fingertips tapped across her station controls. “We are receiving no outside transmissions on our communications system.”

Ezra grabbed his own yoke, taking back control of the shuttle. “It’s through the Force. You’ll just have to trust me.”

He sped the _Lambda_ out of the dark flotilla of lifeless purrgil. _I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry_ . Ezra clenched his teeth, narrowing his concentration to latch firmly on the faint call he heard in his mind. _We’re coming, just hold on._

Ezra piloted the craft in a beeline for the northern polar region. Kanan gestured to where the planet’s aurora borealis lit up the atmosphere with brilliant purples and greens. “It’s going to get a little dicey.”

“We’re going down into _that_?” Braruz’s eyes were rounded. The TIE’s pulled in closer as if confused.

“Commander Bridger, evasive action from the planetary atmosphere is highly recommended.” Leo’s transmission crackled heavily.

“Acknowledged. You’re all welcome to stay up here, group leader.”

“Lucky them,” muttered Braruz.

“Relax, you’ve got two Jedi specimens on board,” Ezra retorted. “What could possibly go wrong?”

As the shuttle descended deeper and deeper, the view outside the transparisteel gradually melded from a deep teal haze to an almost impenetrable murk. The persistent trio of TIE’s finally vanished in the suffocating gloom, leaving nothing but an unsettling hiss on the communications link.

“Commander Bridger, if we go much further, the atmospheric pressure will collapse our hull. We must pull up!” PZ-5’s mechanical hands flexed in alarm.

“Almost there…” Ezra gingerly piloted the shaking shuttle forward now, targeting a darker shape lurking within the gloom. _We’re here, it’s safe to come out now._

A bulbous purrgil emerged, its luminescent eyes brightening while two of its tentacles propelled it tentatively forward. The other two main appendages were wrapped around an absolutely giant tentacle in a fiercely tight grip. The remainder of the enormous tentacle extended into the murk far below them.

“Kanan—it’s a baby, and that’s his mother!” Ezra paused as the baby keened, a long and low wail. “They’ve been feeding on the gases while hiding in the planet’s magnetic field…”

Kanan moved to stand solidly by his side. “It’s a miracle they escaped the battle.” As his not-master clasped his shoulder, Ezra felt a surge of comfort warm his frozen insides.

The baby tried desperately to lift the injured mother upward, but he was clearly exhausted and far too small. His eyes dimmed and rolled upward in their sockets--he flailed and began to sink.

Ezra’s heart throbbed wildly. “They’re really hurt, Kanan—we’ve got to help them!”

“You know what to do, Ezra.” Kanan’s voice resonated encouragement. “Ready?”

Ezra stood, gesturing to Braruz to take over the shuttle. “Ready…”

In unspoken unison, Ezra and Kanan reached out with the Force, pulling the baby and his mother upward. _Whoa, they’re even heavier than they look._ The baby alone would overflow the _Chimaera’s_ secondary hanger.

It was demanding, exhausting work. Ezra recalled lifting stone door after stone door in Malachor’s Temple for Maul. _That was like lifting a bantha milk carton for a refreshing sip compared to this._ As the shuttle climbed in altitude, the dangling mother emerged from the haze bit by bit. Ezra gulped. From the delicate feelers protruding along her blunt jaw to the end of her main tentacle tips, she was probably a third of the _Chimaera's_ length.

Two of her main tentacles were twisted into a large clump as if seriously injured. The remaining free appendages undulated feebly to help her tugging baby and the Jedi fight against the gas giant’s gravity. The mother’s visible eye half-opened, and she communicated a rapid series of clicks and squeaks.

As if obeying an urgent command, the baby copied its mother in swallowing huge gulps of the thick, blue-green air. Ezra felt the load lighten to a somewhat more bearable level. _The gas also increases their buoyancy!_ The intake seemed to revive the mother as her unburdened tentacles thrust a bit more strongly.

Braruz continued to pilot the shuttle slowly upward while the Jedi ferried the purrgil in tandem. _She’s no Hera, but competent enough_. Ezra was vaguely aware of PZ-5 scrambling to keep the shuttle’s stabilizers, navigation, and other key systems working steadily within the constant magnetic fluctuations. Throughout, the mother purrgil emitted another series of clicks and squeaks over and over. _Is that some kind of message?_

“Pee-Zee…” Ezra grunted, “Record those clicks.” He rolled his aching shoulders. “They…could be…important.” _Karabast._ _Even my tongue is tired._

The surprised droid managed a hurried nod. “Yes, Master Ezra.”

Everyone looked as drained as the beleaguered baby purrgil by the time the _Lambda_ finally cleared the upper edges of the gas giant’s atmosphere. Ezra’s legs trembled and he spoke through gritted teeth. “How. Much. Farther?”

Braruz piped up, grim. “We must gain more altitude to establish a stable planetary orbit, Commander. Unless you prefer to burn like a meteor on our way back down.”

Ezra groaned. Outside the viewport, the trio of TIE Defenders spiraled unsteadily out of the upper layers of planetary haze like rejected meteors themselves.

Through crackling static, Ezra heard Group Leader Leo sputter, “C—Commander Bridger, our navigations systems overloaded, we barely made it out.”

“Just glad…to see you…back…” Ezra managed to puff out.

The fighters regained a stable flight path on approach to the shuttle and dangling purrgil. This time, it was Viper’s guttural voice that cut through the static. “Commander! Ready to fire missiles against the enemy onslaught!”

“NO!” Ezra, Kanan, Braruz and PZ-5 all shouted at once.

“This is a _rescue_ , not an attack!” Ezra clarified frantically. “Stand down, now!”

Capra’s stunned voice crackled through. “I don’t kriffin’ believe it!” But the trio of TIE’s swooped past without blasting anything to smithereens.

PZ-5 swiveled her visored head to face Ezra. “What, may I inquire, are you going to do with the purrgil, Master Ezra?”

“Ehh…” Ezra blew out air and let his shoulders drop down from where they’d almost grazed his earlobes. A wavering, deep-pitched keening from the dangling mother drew his attention to the massive lump of her twisted tentacles. As he realized what lay clutched inside her grip, disbelief rippled through him, rapidly followed by awed gratitude.

Kanan wiped sweat off his brow, panting. “Whatever it is…you’re gonna need a bigger ship.”

“Get…Thrawn,” Ezra agreed.

Braruz glanced from Kanan to Ezra with incredulous eyes. “The Grand Admiral will never haul these destructive creatures, Commander.”

“Yes…he will.” Ezra glared back at her with fierce conviction, then shot a triumphant look at Kanan. _There had been a surprise attack…but_ by _the purrgil, not_ on _them_. He huffed the rest with a tight grin. “They’ve got…a first-class…ticket.”

**_Ahsoka – Lothal Sector_ **

Ahsoka checked the cockpit’s panel of readouts from her seat in the none-too-spacious T-6 shuttle, part of her mind already occupied with what might lie ahead upon their arrival at Atollon. _Bendu. The one in the middle._

Ahsoka recalled that strange day which seemed like a lifetime ago. She’d been preoccupied with thoughts of Anakin while preparing to depart for Malachor with Kanan and Ezra. She’d walked the perimeter of Chopper Base to clear her head, but even the shadows cast by the plated coral trees seemed filled with an aura of foreboding. Ahsoka had heard the distinct cry of a convor overhead just before the mighty, ancient Force entity rose out of the dusty ground as if he was made of the planet itself.

Bendu’s unexpected appearance certainly surprised Ahsoka--yet after those mind-bending experiences on Mortis (if any of her fragmented memories were indeed real), she’d grown increasingly accustomed to the oddities flung into her path by the Force. Bendu’s visit had been brief, hardly more than an introduction between them, but Bendu’s energy and the words he’d spoken remained imprinted on Ahsoka’s soul.

_“You are set on this confrontation then?" Bendu’s iridescent, pearl-like eyes had penetrated through every layer of her being._

_Ahsoka had nodded firmly, her lekku shifting. "I have to know the truth."_

_Bendu had scratched his thickly furred chest in a moment of deep thought, then pointed a very long finger. "So be it, but understand this, much will change as a result of this encounter, including you."_

_Icy tendrils attempted to crack into the edges of Ahsoka’s resolve. "Isn't that true of all things, as time advances?"_

_Bendu’s enigmatic smile had let slip a trace of pity. "My dear, when I say change, I mean death."_

Ahsoka still felt the chill of that word to this day. So much had flashed through her mind at the time, all of it spiraling around her beloved master. _If Vader is indeed who I fear him to be, my chance of surviving our encounter is…_

_"So I will die?"  She was relieved to hear a note of acceptance in her voice._

_Bendu had cocked his head at her, perhaps faintly amused. "Will you?  I didn't know that.” He’d opened his enormous palm to her in farewell. “Goodbye then, Ahsoka Tano, former Jedi Knight."_

And then Bendu was gone, and there was nothing Ahsoka could share of her experience with Kanan and Ezra without revealing her hidden fears concerning Anakin. It had all been quite—

“Agh! This is so _frustrating_!”

 _Hm. Not precisely the word I was looking for._ Ahsoka turned her head toward the passenger seat, which was set a bit farther back than her own. A surly Sabine shoved aside her datapad and massaged her forehead.

“I feel like I’m in a Garelian goose chase, looping endless circles around myself.”

“It sounds like you’re having about as much luck as I did when trying to decipher those ancient glyphs from Eedit.” Ahsoka gave the fuming Mandalorian an encouraging smile. “Perhaps the meanings will become clearer if you view them less with your eyes and more with your heart.”

Sabine scowled. “I am no Jedi.”

Ahsoka’s mouth twitched upon hearing the same emphatic declaration that had passed her own lips. “No, Sabine, but you _are_ a gifted and sensitive artist.”

The younger woman pounded a fist on her thigh. “If all this is so important to the galaxy and the Force, why doesn’t it just—I don’t know—pump the information directly into your brain or something?”

Ahsoka shifted her position in the pilot seat to improve the blood circulation to her feet. “A lot of us younglings asked similar questions back at the Temple.” _A certain Caleb Dume and myself being very much included_. She chuckled faintly.

“I remember one day Master Nu told the class to imagine the Force was like a universal star. In order for the star to exist, it must maintain a very difficult balance.”

Ahsoka tightened her hand into a fist. “The fusion rate of the hydrogen atoms at its core must not become too rapid, or the star explodes into a supernova.” Ahsoka now splayed her fingers wide. “But, if the energy at its core becomes too small, the star collapses under its own gravity and turns into a black hole.” Ahsoka’s fingers curled back into an even tighter fist. _The never-ending dance between the Light and the Dark._

“Master Nu said everyone and everything alive in this universe are like these tiny hydrogen atoms. As they fuse within the crucible of the star, the atoms’ transformation becomes the source of the star’s energy…and part of the balance to maintain its existence.”

“Hmmm,” Sabine nodded, eyes narrowed. “Then I guess that star’s too preoccupied to talk directly to each little atom.” She sighed in exasperation. “Sounds like we’re all left to figure it out on our own.”

Ahsoka leaned back to squeeze Sabine’s shoulder. “I believe it’s more that each of us must choose our own journey to the heart of the star, and how much of its voice we want to learn to hear along the way.”

The younger woman tilted her head to peer at Ahsoka like a convor calculating the precise angle of attack on its prey. “Well, that journey must be a lot easier for those born with a way bigger Force antenna than the rest of us.”

Ahsoka released her gentle grip on Sabine with a patient sigh. “Master Nu also stated to us younglings that the Force was our gift to open only in service to others.”

She refrained from adding Master Nu’s dire warning. _Command the Force for power and greed_ — _and you open the jaws of a slime-snake ready to devour its own tail._

Sabine made no comment, but the tenacious Mandalorian lowered her gaze in at least a temporary truce over all that irked her ( _perhaps rightfully s_ _o_ ) concerning the Force.

“I just wish I could make heads or tails of these pictographs.” Sabine plucked the datapad back onto her lap. “It’s like parts are missing on purpose to drive me crazy, or whoever created them ran out of time.”

“How very odd.” Ahsoka frowned and shifted, but her search for a more comfortable position this time was in vain. She rapidly entered a coded message into her private channel. On the inside, Ahsoka smiled like a naughty child. _Sorry, Mon Mothma, this ship just isn’t going to suffice for the long haul._

Sabine’s fingers abruptly stopped tapping on the keypad. “You know…speaking of time, there’s one thing that really bugs me about that library where you got the staff.”

“Which is?”

“Well, since time passes so quickly for us out here, the Architects—if that’s who put the library into orbit around the black hole—only did it a short time ago in their time frame. After all, one year to them is over sixty thousand years here based on what you told us.”  Sabine gave Ahsoka a troubled glance. “Why did they do it…and how could they anticipate what might happen in our time?”

Ahsoka shivered, recalling her brief time in the World Between Worlds with Ezra. “I don’t know, Sabine. The Architects are clearly extremely evolved, and must have access to dimensions outside of time, or maybe the ability to somehow see everything at once. So many things are outside of our comprehension.”

Seeing the impatient, unfulfilled expression return to Sabine’s face, Ahsoka laughed gently. “I like to think grand mysteries like these are challenges our future generations can look forward to solving as our galaxy’s civilizations evolve. After all, how dull life would be if we already knew everything.”

Sabine’s mouth twisted into a half-smile. “True. But the thought of all powerful, all knowing Architect-whatevers watching us like bugs under a glass makes me very nervous.”

“I concede your point.” Ahsoka nodded, then settled her gaze on the vortex of hyperspace surrounding the shuttle’s cockpit viewport. She felt greatly pleased by how much Sabine had grown and matured since her days of exploding Imperial property so effectively with the Spectres. Although Ahsoka had infrequently interacted directly with the capricious Mandalorian during those times, she’d sensed Sabine was far more than a fierce warrior and innovative street artist. Sabine’s wise leadership during Lothal’s reconstruction made it clear she was a potential a beacon to restore a lasting peace on war-torn Mandalore.

 _She is a strong and capable ally on this mission._ The time had come to trust in her mettle.

“Sabine, there’s an aspect of my research I’ve hesitated to share, but I believe you should know it. It’s important not only because it involves Jacen’s heritage, but it could play an integral part in finding Ezra.”

Sabine’s startled, almond eyes scanned Ahsoka’s face. “And what aspect is that?”

“Kanan’s birth name, Caleb Dume. Only, according to the Jedi records, Dume is not a last name. Dume is a Force-related entity…a guardian spirit of Lothal, for lack of a better explanation.”

Sabine’s brows furrowed, then her eyes brightened. “Which I guess makes some sense if Lothal is part of the ring of planets protecting the Galactic Rim, right?”

Ahsoka nodded, smiling. _Hera wasn’t kidding when she told me Sabine’s mind is like a gravity trap._

Sabine gripped her forehead as if pulling out memories. “Ezra mentioned Dume to me and Hera after Kanan’s death. But we had so little time to talk.” Her face grimaced with loss. “I know Dume had something to do with Kanan’s will helping Ezra find you in the Temple, then stopping the Emperor from getting inside.”

“Yes.” Ahsoka nodded again as she held up one finger. “Caleb.” She held up a second finger. “Dume.” Now she crossed the two fingers together. “Caleb. Dume. Two as one. It is an extremely rare occurrence for such a powerful Force spirit to intertwine with a corporeal host.”

Sabine’s slender eyebrows abruptly climbed toward her vivid purple hairline. “Wait. What? Are you telling me that giant wolf-thing was inside Kanan all his life?”

“Yes, but I don’t think Kanan was aware of that until much closer to the…end.”

After a ruminative silence, Sabine slowly rested her chin in her hand. “But…Kanan and the Temple are both gone, so what does Dume have to do with Jacen now? Or Ezra?”

“When I spoke with the white Loth-wolf, I found out Dume is gone from Lothal.”

Sabine only stared back with puzzled eyes. “And….?”

Ahsoka leaned in closer. “The Jedi’s archives make it clear a planetary Force guardian does not die with its host.”

“Okaaaay….”

Now Ahsoka gripped Sabine’s hand in her own. “More importantly for us, Sabine, the guardian can’t leave its world without its host.”

Sabine’s hand clamped down so tightly it made Ahsoka wince. “You’re saying Kanan is alive because Dume’s still inside him!”

She abruptly let Ahsoka go to clutch at her temples, shock battling with disbelief. “But…but…I saw the explosion…” Her voice faltered.

A lump rose in Ahsoka’s own throat as she recalled Ezra’s agonized face in the World Between Worlds. _I can save him._ “No remains were ever found.”

Sabine gulped back the beginnings of a sob. “Because Kanan was nothing but ashes.”

“Sabine, there’s nothing tangible I can provide you right now as proof to the contrary, but if Ezra found that Temple Gate in Wild Space…”

The Mandalorian looked up, eyes now glinting with hope instead of tears. “He’d try to find and save Kanan. I know he would.” Then, almost instantly her face twisted into a grimace of realization and hope faded.

“But—but, it’s still impossible, Ahsoka. If Ezra saves Kanan, then we all die in the explosion—and Ezra isn’t alive to go into the Temple and save Kanan.”

“Sabine,” Ahsoka looked encouragingly into the young woman’s eyes. “Don’t forget Ezra’s had a few years to plan a strategy in case he ever got a second chance. If anyone could figure out a way to save Kanan without disrupting the timeline…”

“It would be Ezra,” Sabine finished softly, her gaze turned inward.

The flight console beeped and Ahsoka forced herself to focus back on the helm. “We’ve arrived at Atollon.”

Around them, the blue wash of hyperspace surged into the black velvet of real space. The reddish hue of the arid planet filled the transparisteel viewport. Alongside the shuttle, the two X-wings resettled into protective positions.

Ahsoka engaged her com. “Umbra One and Two, we’re setting down at Chopper Base as far from the northern perimeter as possible.”

“Roger that, Umbra Leader,” Tong transmitted back. “We’ve heard a lot of stories about those nasty critters.”

Ahsoka scanned the long-abandoned, demolished base looming ever closer in her viewport. Even the massive coraline tree formations along the mesa remained darkened by battle scars. “I doubt much survived in Thrawn’s wake…but be careful.”

“And carry a big sensor beacon,” added Taluka, a grin in her voice. Both X-wings zipped slightly ahead of the T-6.

“Ahsoka?” Sabine was eyeing her solemnly.

“Yes, Sabine?”

“Thank you for trusting me with this about Kanan…but mostly for not telling Hera anything until we can find out for sure.” Sabine ran a shaky hand through her bright hair. “I couldn’t stand to see Hera’s heart shattered all over again.”

Ahsoka nodded gently, pretending not to notice the tear Sabine wiped from her cheek before she grabbed her helmet. _If I’m wrong, it will be more than painful enough for us both._

“I’m coming, Ezra,” Sabine muttered. She planted the colorful helmet firmly on her head. “And you _better_ have Kanan with you.”

With a faint smile, Ahsoka turned away to maneuver the T-6 into a landing near the forlorn remains at Chopper Base’s southern edge. There was no guarantee that the Bendu still slumbered in the local wilderness in some form or fashion—but if he did, Ahsoka was determined to give him a wake-up call.

**_Hera – In route to Takodana_ **

Hera leaned back in her form-fitting pilot seat, savoring the rare peace and quiet throughout the _Ghost_ almost as much as the hot caf she sipped in absentminded bliss. The hypnotic blue-white swirls of hyperspace lulled her mind into a tranquil state, muting the incessant pings of anxiety emanating from her solar plexus.

 _Yes,_ _I’m actually flying my only son into a dinko’s nest of pirates._ That disturbing thought—which usually did its best to run amok between tchun and tchin—for the moment seemed cushioned away in a padded cell. Hera indulged herself in a luxurious, full-scale yawn, allowing her eyelids to stay at half-mast.

Back in Jacen’s toy-cluttered cabin, AP-5 was drilling her son through a series of Ryl verb conjugations (no doubt with pedantic pomposity). A very surly Chopper had _finally_ acquiesced to running diagnostics on the Phantom II after relaying a litany of complaints starring Zeb and Kallus. They’d apparently ejected Chopper from the common room to silence his incessant, insulting opinions about their dejarik strategies. Hera could faintly hear Kallus’ voice rising heatedly over Zeb’s derisive laughter as the game continued. _Those two._ They’d die for each other—but living around each other was apparently a whole other pod race. 

A resonating memory sent a pang through Hera’s chest. Her mind served up images of Roughneck Kanan attempting to charm her in that dive of a cantina on Gorse ( _The Asteroid Belt, indeed_ ). She’d pushed his chair away from the table as a not-so-subtle hint of disinterest, but he’d just flipped it around and straddled it like a speeder bike, then insolently grinned his way back into the conversation. To think she’d almost walked away from Kanan forever before their adventures on Gorse had even begun.

 _What if we’d never connected on that mudball of a world while saving its shining moon, Cynda?_ How many more abused miners would have died? And would Hera have gone on to become a general in the Rebellion…or been fatally shot in one of her headstrong rampages against the Empire?

A tougher question arose. _Would Kanan still be alive if he’d never laid eyes on me?_ Hera swallowed the dregs of her caf, grimacing at its bitter aftertaste. _Most likely, Kanan would’ve died in some senseless bar fight, buried under a pile of empty Corellian whiskey bottles that he’d drained dry on his final Empire Day._

Hera steered her thoughts to the kaleidoscope of blue-white light that displaced her ship outside realspace. The tunnel shimmered and pulsed, so very like the humming blade of Kanan’s lightsaber. _“I think Daddy’s going to need it back.”_ Hera sighed heavily. Why had Jacen been led to find the weapon now? Although Hera was grateful to the Loth-wolves for the return of Kanan’s lightsaber, she did _not_ appreciate the manner in which their gift ignited an unfulfillable wish in her son’s head. What games were those enigmatic creatures playing?

Seeing the lightsaber again, and its painfully familiar hilt grasped so confidently in Jacen’s hand, had opened up a sinkhole to regrets that Hera had done her best to climb out of in the years since Kanan’s fiery death.

Why _had_ she taken so long to tell Kanan those three little words? As always, that futile question gave her mind a puzzle box of mismatched pieces to grapple with. Was it because the ability to open her heart to _any_ man had been undermined by years of bitter discord with her father? It wasn’t until Hera had stolen that Imperial fighter carrier over Ryloth with Cham at her side that their estrangement had finally ended. That blessing had seeded a cautious reconciliation between Hera and her father that had flowered slowly over time—and flourished rapidly after the birth of Jacen.

What remained obscure to Hera’s consciousness during most of the ten years she’d shared with Kanan had become painfully obvious in retrospect: She’d kept Kanan tucked behind many of the same emotional barriers she’d erected against the pain of her father’s neglect. Yet, day by day, year by year, Kanan irrepressibly swung himself across Hera’s carefully laid fortress walls, earning her trust with his tenacious reliability. _Kanan never lost faith in me no matter how much he’d doubted the outcome of my mission against the Empire._

More quickly than she’d admit to it at the time, Hera found herself unfolding like a sun-starved rose before the steadfast love alight in Kanan’s eyes…and even delighting in that same, damn insolent grin he liked to spread across his unfairly handsome face. Long before Hera kissed Kanan openly for all the _Ghost_ family to ogle with knowing smiles, she’d known her devoted lover had proven himself more than worthy of dwelling within the most vulnerable sanctuaries of her heart.

 _I love you._ Those three not-so-simple words finally left her tongue on that darkest of nights, a long overdue admission—and a promise to Kanan of so much more to come. _And then the love of my life was gone in a blinding flash, while the Emperor gloated and crossed another Jedi’s name off his blood-soaked extermination list._

The leather of Hera’s gloves creaked loudly, and she looked down at her tightly bunched fists. _The Jedi._ Her thoughts back-peddled to probe one of the largest puzzle pieces in her “why” box. For the apocalyptic thundercloud of Order 66 had ironically granted Hera and Kanan a guilt-edged silver lining: the freedom to explore their undeniable, mutual passion within an attachment they both knew the High Council would have frowned upon had it still existed. Yet, the decimated Jedi Order had remained an invisible, but tangible wedge between herself and Kanan, especially when their budding relationship was still in its infancy.

Was it because Hera had feared that Kanan stayed with her only _because_ she wouldn’t accept his overtures? That her refusal to commit to an intimate relationship left him free to re-embrace the Force whenever it called? For the first six months after Gorse, Hera almost expected to wake up one morning to find Kanan gone…although she understood him well enough by then to know he’d only slink back to his self-destructive road of hedonistic wanderings and avoid any return to his Jedi path.

When it became abundantly clear Kanan had no intentions of abandoning Hera’s side for any reason other than her direct order to leave the _Ghost_ forever, Hera made Kanan gently aware of one mandatory condition: The heated, intimate union they’d finally surrendered themselves to must take second place to Hera’s mission.

 _Did I make Kanan swear to this because I knew in war there’d be agonizing loss upon loss upon loss?_ Already torn from her life were her beloved mother, her infant brother, and almost countless relatives on Ryloth either dead or brutally enslaved. Hera closed her stinging eyes, forcing the encroaching memories of past heartbreaks to take up residence with the suppressed anxieties currently embedded in the softly padded cell.

As the battles against the Empire grew in scope and dragged on, Hera had known in her core it made no logical sense to believe she and Kanan would have more time. Just surviving to fight another day in the Rebellion was a victory. Still, some voice within Hera had insisted the Force _must_ have saved Kanan from Order 66 for a reason, that his existence was somehow integral to defeating Palpatine. Surely Kanan would live to see it! Why else had Hera been led to recognize the Jedi entombed inside him, to feel compelled to help Kanan reclaim who he really was instead of drowning his magnificent heritage in drunken oblivion?

 _How wrong I was._ Like all of those whose blood had spilled across the galaxy to grease the relentless wheels of the Empire, Kanan’s life had been cut far too short. It was a deep root of pain that refused to shrivel away in Hera’s heart. This irresolvable hurt had made it impossible to assemble her box of puzzle pieces into something that fully explained the why’s of all she’d done—and not done—while Kanan lived. Throughout all of Hera’s emotional sifting and sorting since his death, only one thing remained clear. _For all that Kanan endured and sacrificed to help others, he deserved so much more_.

Only a few now remained who could truly appreciate and understand the extent of Kanan’s loss…and the one who’d been closest to him of all remained missing himself. _Ezra_ . At the thought of Kanan’s plucky padawan and her surrogate son, Hera sat up straight in the pilot’s seat. _Okay, General Syndulla, you’ve indulged yourself in enough remorse and longing for one day._ Besides, the padded cell had reached its bursting point. Hera took a deep breath and diverted the flow of her remaining intrusive thoughts into a secondary holding tank for another time.

Hera rubbed her eyes, then checked all systems to prepare for the _Ghost’s_ arrival at Takodana. In the here and now ( _and certainly what Kanan would want_ ), she must concentrate on Jacen’s needs and help ensure that Ezra be found. Hera wasn’t quite sure how she was going to accomplish her duties, but she was damn sure that nothing, especially a planet full of pirates and smugglers would stop her from succeeding.

As if in agreement, her communications console chimed. She opened the channel, actually grateful for the absurd distraction that only Hondo could provide. She addressed his beaming visage in the holo transmission.

“Go ahead, Hondo.”

“Ah, hah! My lady General, I hope you are enjoying your uneventful journey through this region of unsavory criminals. Rest assured, they are all very good friends of Hondo...and know all too well how unwise it is to cross me.” He wagged his bony finger at Hera, grinning with satisfaction. “I promised safe passage as Hondo’s gift to set your Jedi youngling on his noble path. As you can see, no one has attacked us so far. Hondo is always a man of his word.”

In the background, Melch belched out a derisive laugh and raised an obscene gesture. Hera restrained the roll of her eyes. “I do appreciate you escorting the Ghost to Maz Kanata’s castle, Hondo. I know you’re a very busy, um, businessman.”

Hondo pinched his finger and thumb together. “There is one teeny, tiny little detail Hondo should reveal before I present you to the pirate queen.” Hondo now scratched under his bone-frilled chin, hemming and hawing. “Nothing vital, well, actually, perhaps _very_ vital, but it slipped Hondo’s mind in all the excitement.”

 _Excitement. Really?_ Hera had been forced to sweet talk Hondo from out of his buyer’s strangling appendages— _and spaceport security_ —after their deal disintegrated into a spectacularly destructive temper tantrum. _If only I could’ve enjoyed the luxury of watching Hondo get hauled off to detention._

Stuck with the wily pirate ( _for now_ ), Hera felt a hot stone settle in the pit of her stomach. “Just spit it out, Hondo.”

“Well, you see, Maz Kanata is an illustrious collector of very rare and special items from across the galaxy. It will not do to offer her—” his hand brushed the air disparagingly"— _credits_ to help your little Jacen Syndulla. You must offer the queen a gift…like my gift of safe passage to you…one that is unique and irreplaceable.”

Hera leaned herself almost face to face with the wizened pirate captain’s holographic image. “And you’re telling me this _now_?”

Hondo’s eyes widened a fraction in alarm. “Surely you have something aboard that would suffice.” His alarm abruptly shifted to glee. “But of course. Your giant, hairy, purple Lasat—the queen will adore him!”

Hera’s hands twitched toward her nose gun controls. _I’m going to kill him._ Luckily for Hondo, the proximately light flashed and Hera’s hands dropped the _Ghost_ out of hyperspace instead. As the spears of starlight snapped into pinpoints, Hera saw the _Last Chance_ skimming its way toward the green-blue planet like a happy dragonfly above a pond.

Anger bubbled up from the hot rock in Hera’s insides. “Get back here! I am _not_ giving Zeb to Maz Kanata!”

Hondo’s holo face flinched, and he started shoving his Ugnaught co-pilot. “Melch, hurry now to your treasure box and see if there is anything fit for the pirate queen!”

Melch pushed back at the Weequay, grunting and squealing rebelliously. With one hand grappling his diminutive crewman, Hondo held up the bony finger of his other hand at Hera. “Stand by, my lady General.” Hondo cut the transmission.

Hera stared at the blank spot, her mind feeling like melted solder wire. Jacen appeared at her right, plopping himself into the co-pilot chair. She noticed vaguely he had something cradled in his arms.

“You know what _I_ think would be a great gift, Mama?” Jacen smiled and answered eagerly before Hera could utter a word. “A baby sister.”  

 _What?_ The melted wire of Hera’s mind now jolted with electrified confusion. Slowly, she managed to assemble a rational sentence together. “Jacen, love…Maz Kanata is almost a thousand years old. I think it’s a little late for a baby sister.”

“Not for the pirate queen, Mama. For _me_ ,” Jacen exclaimed.

Hera blinked dumbly at his enthusiastic face, at the way his teal eyes glowed with ideas. _Baby…sister?_

“I could be her teacher, help her learn to communicate with animals just like me and Uncle Ezra.” He looked at Hera confidently. “She’ll be a Jedi, too, of course!” A loud purring rumbled from the bundle nestled in Jacen’s lap.

Hera’s eyes dropped toward the sound. When she finally registered exactly what Jacen was petting, they almost bulged from their sockets. “Jaaacennn…what is that Loth-cat doing on the Ghost?”

Jacen held up the exceedingly contented feline. “I just found him hiding in my bunk, Mama.” Her son’s smile turned downwards. “He does it all the time—it’s because he’s so little and the other cats always play too rough with him.”

Hera gawked at the enthusiastically purring furball, which was indeed tiny for a grown Loth-cat. Some rational, observant part of Hera’s brain that still functioned notified her that its fur was black. _Black? Since when have I ever seen or heard of a black Loth-cat?_

Hera’s lekku twitched as if a switch went off between them. _A collector of rare and special items, hmmm?_ Hera felt her jaws unclench as a genuine smile worked its way across her face.

“Well, now, little tooka, I think you’re going to need a name.”  Hera scratched behind its perky ears and the Loth-cat purred even louder. “How about _Teeubo_.”

Jacen’s face lit up in recognition and delight. “Mama, that means treasure!”

“Yes, _akei_ , yes it does.”

**_Ahsoka - Atollon_ **

With a final thump of her staff on the dry earth, Ahsoka stepped into the shade under the wide plates of a coral tree and pulled back the hood of her cloak. She reached out yet again with her senses. _Bendu? Can you hear my call?_

Sabine leaned back against a boulder and tugged off her helmet. “Ugh, I’d almost forgotten how hot this place is.” The Mandalorian took a brief swig from a canteen bottle, then re-hooked it to her belt.

“You do realize how unlikely it is the Bendu survived, right? The decoded reports state Thrawn’s forces killed a violent, unidentifiable creature when it interfered with the attack on the base.”

The screech of a convor filled the air as one of the ever-curious birds sailed past. Ahsoka’s pulse quickened.

“It’s even more unlikely that Thrawn’s skill set includes the destruction of an ancient, supremely powerful Force entity.” Ahsoka gave Sabine a wry smile.

“Huh.” Sabine shrugged. “Well, maybe this entity just doesn’t like me. I could go back to wait with the pilots—”

“And what reason would I have to think ill of you, my dear?” The Bendu’s distinctive voice resonated around them. Ahsoka felt the vibrations deeply in her chest—even through the soles of her boots. Dust motes rose and danced lightly in the warm air.

Sabine rotated tensely in search of the speaker, hands hovering near her blasters’ handles. “Where are you? Is this the Bendu?”

The Bendu’s voice chuckled softly, and a light breeze fluttered its way around Ahsoka as if to inspect her cloak and staff. Any moment, she expected an immense, archaic form to emerge from the rocks and sands.

“I am indeed the one in the middle, even though I no longer have a middle to speak of.”

Sabine’s brow furrowed in confusion while the impact of the Bendu’s words bruised Ahsoka’s heart. “So, Thrawn did deprive you of your physical form. I am deeply sorry for your pain, Bendu.”

“While I, Ahsoka Tano, am not sorry that you are not dead.” The warm humor in Bendu’s voice shifted to a more serious note. “Yet, I see the imprint of Ashla’s footprints now sinks more deeply within the tread of your own.”

Ahsoka dipped her montrals in deference. “Bendu, I believe I’ve been sent by the Daughter for your guidance. The white wolf of Lothal brought you to my attention as well.”

The Bendu harrumphed. “Rather presumptuous, considering my present condition has me occupied with stabilizing this entire region of the Outer Rim—no thanks to the antics of his kind.”

 _Of his kind._ Ahsoka shared a glance with Sabine. This sounded like a jab at both Kanan and Dume. _I best approach Bendu sideways or risk provoking him to silence_. The Bendu had made it very clear years ago to Kanan and all at Chopper Base that the turmoil of short-lived mortals was the bane of his presumably eternal existence.

Ahsoka thoughtfully stroked her chin, genuinely curious. “Bendu, may I ask why such a primal Force entity as you would even bother to inhabit a mortal form?”  

She recalled how tangible the Ones’ bodies seemed at death, directly in contrast to their surreal, otherworldly features and shapeshifting abilities during life. Ahsoka shuddered, remembering the Son’s ghastly transformations and how he’d poisoned her with the Dark. _Perhaps one day the Daughter will clarify what was reality on Mortis or just Force projections into my mind._

Bendu’s voice rumbled around Ahsoka and Sabine. “The energy of all life flows into the Force, and the Force flows through the energy of all that lives. But to truly evolve in tandem with living beings, an energy like my own must periodically experience the perspective of your realm via the conduit of a physical form. And the vessel must be compatible with our energies or only great damage and suffering will result.”

A faint draft of air cooled Ahsoka’s face briefly. It was the Bendu’s version of a sigh. “I _was_ rather partial to my last form these past few centuries. It will be some time before a suitable replacement manifests.”

Ahsoka’s lips curved in agreement. “It was uniquely magnificent, indeed. Which brings me to this.” She presented the staff and was not at all surprised to feel it tugged gently from her grasp. _Let us see what the Bendu offers up on his own._

Bendu’s voice emitted an even heavier sigh of resignation as the staff rotated slowly up and down and from side to side. “This implement—I recognize it.” His tone sharpened. “It only makes its appearance during times of boundless creation…or as a desperate measure against vast destruction.”

 _And I thought I’d prepared for the worst_. A heavy dread spread its way through Ahsoka’s insides, settling firmly in the pit of her stomach despite all her Force training in such matters.

Sabine moved closer to Ahsoka, her face pale. “Let me guess. It’s not creation time.”

The staff rotated to point its elegantly circled tip directly at Sabine. “You are correct, wielder of the Darksaber.”

Sabine swallowed with surprise and consternation. “H-how did you…” She quickly regained her bearings. “You must have seen me train with Kanan and Ezra.”

The Bendu murmured in acknowledgment. “Yes…the noisy ones.”

“Anyway,” Sabine continued firmly, “I conceded that weapon to Bo-Katan to unite and lead Mandalore.”

“Ahhh. So it would seem…but do not be surprised if the Darksaber returns itself to your hands sooner than you imagine.”

The staff abruptly spun upright and impaled itself in the packed dirt in front of Ahsoka’s feet. “It will be up to you to grasp it.”

As the Bendu’s voice reverberated against the surrounding corals, Ahsoka and Sabine shared a silent glance. Then, Ahsoka reclaimed her staff from the earth with a possessive tug.

“Bendu, this staff came to me as a gift from the Daughter and the Architects, but all I was told is that it is a key to the Temple Gates.”

An amused snort puffed the air between Ahsoka and Sabine, and warm humor returned to the Bendu’s voice. “Yes. It is a key that must be unlocked to reveal its purpose and power layer by layer to the bearer.”

Sabine’s eyebrows arched almost to her hairline. “Unlock a key? How does that even make any sense?”

 _Always riddles upon riddles within the Force, it is._ Ahsoka mouth twitched in remembrance of Master Yoda’s reply to her youngling mix of frustration and anticipation during lessons.

Meanwhile, a playful waft of air had sent the dust motes into a whimsical ballet. “Yet, you stand here talking with the invisible Bendu, who stands between the unceasing pull of the Ashla and the Bogan in their eternal dance. Is there any sense to be made of that?”

Sabine opened her mouth, hesitated, then raised a gloved finger. “Point taken.” Her armored shoulders lifted in exasperation. “But what good is a key that we don’t know how to open?”

Bendu tsked and tutted. “It’s not so difficult as all that, my dear. The key is unlocked by its name, of course.”

Ahsoka’s thoughts sifted through that revelation while Sabine raised a hand in mock triumph. “Oh, of course!” The Mandalorian dropped her hand to her hip with a scowl. “Except we have absolutely no idea what it is or how to find it.”

Like a huff of exasperation, a breeze fluttered Ahsoka’s cloak and Sabine’s bright purple hair. “It isn’t something that can be _found_. The staff must be _given_ a name by each who bears it.”  

Ahsoka’s fingers now detected a slight thrum of Force vibration within the staff and the wheels of her mind slowly ground into place. _The name serves as an imprint, uniquely tied to the one who bestows it_ . As to what name would unlock the staff for _her_ would require further delving into Ahsoka’s soul.

“Uh, just how many staff bearers have there been?” Sabine’s mouth turned down as if dreading the answer.

The Bendu chuckled mirthlessly. “That is of no importance to the present, young Mandalorian. I _will_ share the staff was known most recently as _Vade’mecum._ And—as evidenced by the fact we three exist to have this pleasant, perhaps senseless conversation—the galaxy did survive its last crisis more or less intact.”

A soft wind eddied around Ahsoka and Sabine in what felt very much like a disinterested yawn. _He’s already weary of us._ Ahsoka’s lekku twitched in exasperation while Sabine shook her head, rattled.

“Thanks, Bendu. Good to know.” Now Sabine’s narrowed eyes sought Ahsoka’s own. “So, that’s it? Just a name, like…I don’t know…old Jho?”

Ahsoka cradled her chin, searching for clarity in thoughts that wanted to jumble. “No, Sabine. I sense it has to be something deeply meaningful to the bearer. A key—if you will—to their inner world.”

The Bendu’s chuckle rippled once again. “Ahsoka Tano, you have known the name of your staff for years.”

At Ahsoka’s startled expression, the Bendu’s voice softened as he added, not unkindly, “I would tell you, my dear, but then it would become _my_ name and no use to you at all.”

Ahsoka managed a resigned smile. “I understand.” For now, she’d attempt to get at least one more question in before the unpredictable Bendu retreated.

“Bendu, when you attacked the ship that carried Kanan Jarrus, why didn’t you completely destroy it as you did the others?”

Laughter boomed, startling Ahsoka and Sabine as it echoed off the rocks and giant coral formations. “Ha hah! The one who calls himself Jedi Knight?”

“Yes, the one and same.” Ahsoka waited tensely.

The chortles twisted into biting words. “Kanan Jarrus declared me a coward for reminding him I was the one in the middle. Is the pivot point of a pendulum or the hinge of a swinging door a _coward_ when it alone must hold the center?” The Bendu’s voice rumbled into a sonorous crescendo. “I say not! For no coward could bear the unceasing agony as Light and Dark wrench eternally for domination, to avert _all_ sides from being lost!”

Dust swirled in a low eddy in the wake of his heated declaration. Pebbles rattled back to the dirt as the Bendu spoke again more softly. “I was insulted by his impertinence and his demands for war.” His voice roughened. “But the moment I struck him, I recognized it was not the will of the Force to end his life.”

Sabine lifted her tucked head, and almost hissed, “Well, you still got your wish. Kanan sacrificed himself to save everyone he loved.” She wrapped her arms around herself tightly.

The silent pause that followed was broken by a convor’s faint screech from somewhere in the arid distance. Then, the Bendu’s rueful chuckle gently rippled through the air. “I would deem _that_ another of the Force’s very effective disguises, my dear.”

Ahsoka’s heart thrummed as Force energy pulsed through her staff like it was absorbing something vital for later. She heard the Bendu’s whisper in her ear.

“And yet another thing you already know, my dear. Goodbye.”

Ahsoka sensed the Bendu slip away, perhaps to contend with galaxy-wide chaos. _Or more likely to savor a coveted moment of slumber_. She turned and found Sabine’s eyes alight with hope and excitement.

“That sounded like Ezra made it to the Gate of Water—we need to get moving!”

The roar of a space freighter overhead caused them both to rush out from under the shelter of the coral plates. The ship swiftly soared in the direction of Chopper Base where the X-wings awaited Ahsoka’s and Sabine’s return.

Sabine had yanked on her helmet to use its rangefinder. “Who is that? Who else knows we’re here?”

Ahsoka smiled in the bright light. The dread still lurked within her like krykna in a lair, but now a sensor beacon of stronger hope held it at bay. “An old friend—with a new ride. From this point forward, our journey must be less conspicuous.”  

**_Kanan – Sintuuian Sector_ **

Kanan stood wearily in the cockpit of the _Lambda_ shuttle, catching his breath. He’d had exactly fifteen minutes to hit the fresher and wash down a bland meal biscuit with cold caf, not necessarily in that order. Then he’d spent the following two hours embroiled in a heart-numbing task that would normally haunt his dreams. _Good thing I’ll sleep like a damn Geonosian rock once this shift is finally over_.

For now, he gnawed on worry bones concerning Ezra. His not-padawan had clearly been traumatized by finding the slaughtered flock of purrgil. Kanan shook his head, recalling that long-ago time on the _Ghost_ when he’d teased Hera over her distrust and dislike of the unpredictable beasts. Yet, one of those creatures had befriended and saved Ezra during their raid on the Mining Guild’s gas refinery—and look where that long, preposterous road had led.

When the _Chimaera_ first joined their shuttle’s wobbling orbit around the gas giant, the Grand Admiral looked the closest to throwing a snit fit that Kanan had ever seen. As Lieutenant Braruz had forewarned, the anger in the Chiss’ red eyes speared both Jedi like hot prongs during their initial holographic exchange. Kanan couldn’t quite blame Thrawn in this volatile situation. The Imperials barely survived their first encounter with the purrgil on Lothal—and now there was about zero probability the rescued mother and baby could transport the _Chimaera_ for two meters, let alone out of Wild Space.

However, Thrawn’s glimpse of the silent, metallic monstrosity clutched within the mother’s tentacles sealed Ezra’s adamant deal to transport them to a safer haven. Somehow, she’d ensnared the surprisingly intact remains of one of the Nihilum. No one who’d seen the rogue clone trooper’s transmission could mistake that streamlined, humanoid profile, the bristle of its mysterious, merciless weaponry.

The instant the _Chimaera_ took over their burden, Kanan and Ezra had almost hit the shuttle floor. _Never thought I’d be so grateful for an Imperial tractor beam_. Through ragged breaths, Ezra had told the Grand Admiral the purrgil sacrificed their flock to provide this one spoil from the battlefield. It was a priceless and bloodstained gift that provided the Jedi and Thrawn’s forces a chance to learn their enemy from the inside out. More importantly, it ignited a glimmer of hope that the Nihilum’s ruthless trail of destruction might even be ended before spreading further Coreward.

 _Thrawn can hardly wait to get his engineering crews all over it like gulls on a juicy crab to pry out its secrets._ For once, Kanan found himself reluctantly on the side of the Grand Admiral. But the extraction of the Nihilum from the mother’s grasp had to wait for the main hanger to be adequately cleared to house its massive size. _Oh, and let’s not forget we all need to get the hell out of here pronto in case the Nihilum pay a return visit_.

Ezra had left the shuttle with PZ-5 right after Thrawn conceded the hitchhiking purrgil were worthy of his mercy. While the droid analyzed the recordings of the mother’s frantic clicking noises, Ezra had stayed busy with Thrawn’s peevish engineering team to rapidly construct a jury-rigged docking scaffold near the main hanger. Once the tractor beam released the baby’s wounded mother, it would safely stabilize her against the Star Destroyer during hyperspace. The watchful baby himself clung gingerly to heavy cables cleated along the underside of the _Chimaera_ like a bizarre festival ornament. It was all quite a sight.

One question kept drumming around inside Kanan’s head. _Are things even worse than we thought?_ Why now would these Force-sensitive creatures hurl themselves against a vastly superior foe? Kanan massaged his aching neck and shoulders. _Have the purrgil been waiting for me for some reason before making this aggressive move_ — _like the Loth-wolves did on Lothal?_

If so, Kanan wasn’t all that keen on what it might portend. _I kinda hope I wasn’t pulled out of the fire for the frying pan._ But those gloomy thoughts had to wait their turn. His brain was too slushy right now to probe either Dume or the Force for more intel, plus his current mission wasn’t complete. _Besides,_ _no news is good news, right?_

A half-mast smirk struggled to lift his lips as Kanan turned from the shuttle’s viewport to the pilot. “Okay, Lieutenant, just three more to go.”  

Braruz let out a weary breath. Her face was the palest of pinks and her purple eyes were dull and ringed by darkening circles. _She looks as exhausted as I feel_.

“Aye, sir.” The Devaronian deftly maneuvered the shuttle toward a father, mother and baby purrgil. The heartbreaking trio drifted over the hazy blue-green planet with their tentacles intertwined.

Kanan swallowed back the rising lump in his throat, envisioning Hera singing a soft lullaby for their sleepy youngling tucked into Kanan’s bunk aboard the _Ghost_. As always, the face of his child was an enigma wrapped in a bundle of boundless energy and curiosity. _I will meet you one day soon, I promise._

Gathering his strength, Kanan silently called upon Dume yet again to fortify him within the Force. To Braruz, he said, “A little closer, please.” The shuttle nudged forward. Closing his eyes, Kanan reached out to the wraithlike purrgil floating before him…and pushed steadily with the Force.

At first, it was like shoving futilely against a fortress wall…but gradually Kanan felt the entwined family change course in their orbit. He spread his hands wider, slowly guiding the creatures ever faster and downward into the embrace of the gas giant’s gravity.

At the peripheral edges of his senses, Kanan tracked Braruz, who kept an even distance between the shuttle and the interlocked family. “Almost there, Lieutenant.” With a final, mighty Force-shove, Kanan opened his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He braced his hand on the back of the co-pilot seat to steady himself against the tremors of fatigue.

Outside, the trio of behemoths dove toward the deceptively serene planet. They joined the long chain of purrgil already streaming downward in a meteoric plunge to burn brightly in the friction of the atmosphere. _A funeral pyre._ Kanan hoped it wasn’t the shape of more things to come.

The communication console pinged and Braruz opened the transmission. “This is Lambda One Alpha, go ahead.”

Thrawn himself appeared in the holo, his hands resting firmly behind his back. “Lieutenant, proceed to your hanger station immediately. An anomalous mass was observed transiting the red hypergiant star which most recently diminished in luminosity.”

Kanan and Braruz shared a deeply troubled glance _. The Nihilum?_ Someone outside the holo’s range urgently handed Thrawn a data pad. His lips thinned as he scanned it.

“The monitoring team now reports this unidentified mass has abruptly vanished, presumably into hyperspace.”

Feeling queasy, Kanan slid into the co-pilot seat. “We’re on our way, Grand Admiral.”

“Master Jedi, you will report to the bridge immediately once the shuttle docks.” Before Kanan opened his mouth to respond, Thrawn ended the transmission.

Kanan closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. _Great. This wonderful, never-ending day just got even better_. Next to him, Kanan sensed fear starting to rip its way through Braruz’s fatigue-weakened nervous system. He sighed. _Time for an absurd distraction_.

“You know, I guess this is as good a time as any to offer you an apology.” Kanan looked over to see Braruz’s dark eyebrows pop up towards her horn nubs.

“Apology, sir? For what?”

Kanan rubbed at the chin scruff under his sheepish smile. “Ehh, for having to watch me stumble around half-naked in those security recordings as part of your job.”

The lieutenant’s gaze turned carefully impassive, but her cheeks pinked up. After a moment, she shrugged one shoulder. “I have had…worse assignments.”  The corner of her mouth tweaked upwards and she added, “Apology accepted, Master Jedi.”

“Call me Kanan.” He gave Braruz his most innocuous wink, then she gunned the engines to soar the shuttle into the _Chimaera’s_ hanger bay.

 

* * *

_Kanan – Chimaera_

Kanan stood tensely with Ezra, Thrawn and PZ-5 at the main helm station on the _Chimaera’s_ bridge. Outside the interlocking panes of the wide viewport, the gateway to safety beckoned _. If_ he and Ezra could safely navigate the ship to and through the exceedingly glitchy Boomerang nebula. _There’s also the not so small matter of our hefty hitchhikers._

Kanan ran his fingers through the stubble of his hair, willing his sloggy brain cells to perk up without a bucket of triple caf. “Let me get this straight,” he grumbled while leaning in toward PZ-5. “You’re saying all those clickity-squeaks from the mother are a navigational vector?”

“Yes, Master Kanan.” The droid bobbed her head pertly.  “I processed her signal’s mathematical properties in every conceivable configuration within my programming, and then interfaced with the Chimaera’s navicomputer to confirm my assessment.”

“It must be how they find their way along the migration routes.” Ezra gave Kanan an anxious, yet still enthusiastic smile. “If I’m understanding the mother and baby correctly, it’s a safe spot where they can wait for help from another flock.”

Thrawn gestured at the helm’s piloting controls. “The vector data has been uploaded to aid you and Commander Bridger. Presumably this gas giant is the vector’s origin point. The direction sets our course directly through the nebula. According to our star maps, the end point intersects with a large asteroid field just outside the Seoulian system.”

Kanan raised both hands in a stopping motion. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re asking us to fly you through a stormy ocean filled with gravitational and magnetic icebergs to land in a sea of flying rocks?” Kanan raked Thrawn with a heated glare. “That’s a bit more fun than I bargained for.” _If only Hera were here to accept your ridiculously dangerous challenge. She’d be in puffer pig heaven to show you up._

Thrawn replanted his hands calmly behind his back, but his voice was razor sharp. “If we didn’t have the threat of a formidable enemy sniffing so closely on our heels, I wouldn’t risk the safety of my ship and crew on your untested Jedi abilities.”

The Chiss now meticulously inspected the fingernails on one blue hand. “As you are no doubt aware, the purrgil’s vector is a but a guidewire through the fog.” His crimson eyes slid back to Kanan to assess him coolly. “It is up to you and Commander Bridger to avert any collisions with the high velocity stars along our course.”

 _Oh, is that all?_ Kanan wanted to retort as he pictured the _Ghost’s_ dangerously beautiful journey through an imploded star cluster to reach the lost world of Lira San. _If only we had Zeb’s bo-rifle to channel the Force to the Chimaera’s hyperdrive._ Ezra’s hand squeezed Kanan’s shoulder, clearly aware of and sharing his thoughts.

“We can do this, Kanan.” Ezra’s blue eyes were bloodshot with fatigue, but almost glowing with confidence.

The two Jedi shared a mental image of how they’d enhanced the flow of the Force through Zeb and his reconfigured bo-rifle. Ezra released Kanan’s shoulder to gesture toward the pilot seat.

“You take the controls, Kanan,” Ezra urged. _Your Force-sight is much stronger._ “I’ll be your wingman and stay open to the purrgil. Pee-Zee, be prepared to recalculate the vector.”

From the nearest console, PZ-5 nodded. “Yes, Master Ezra.”

Ezra’s mouth quirked. “I have a feeling the mother will offer instinctive pointers along the way.”

Kanan heard another of Ezra’s projected thoughts. _Plus, you’ll have Dume to blaze our trail._ With a nod to Ezra, Kanan closed his eyes and tuned into the ancient Force entity more fully—and was slammed by an intense energy pulse throughout his body.

_DANGER. ON ALL SIDES._

Kanan almost staggered and Ezra caught his arm. “Kanan?” The younger Jedi’s face was rigid with concern.

“I’m…fine.” Kanan managed to keep alarm out of his voice. “But we need to get moving.” _Now._

He swiftly slid into the pilot seat. One hand wiped clammy sweat from his forehead while the other danced intuitively along the console’s typically Imperial control panel. _Okay, Dume, danger on all sides. Which way is the_ least _dangerous_? Dume’s intense pulse rippled through Kanan’s chest, then surged down to his hands to push the yoke.

_FORWARD._

_Well, that’s new. Not too sure I like it much either_. Maneuvering carefully to avoid dislodging the wounded purrgil latched to the keel, Kanan steered the bow of the _Chimaera_ into alignment with the console’s grid display.

From his position behind the pilot’s chair, Ezra laid a firm hand on Kanan’s back. He was grateful for Ezra’s unwavering strength, along with the revitalizing flow of Force energy his not-padawan channeled his way.

The Star Destroyer plowed away from the hushed graveyard of the gas giant. Relief washed over Kanan as he sensed it falling behind. Relief that was very short-lived.

Captain Makeri called over to Thrawn urgently. “Grand Admiral, sensors indicate a mass of unknown craft have entered this system on the far side of the gas giant. At their current rate of speed and trajectory, interception is calculated at thirty-three seconds.”  

Alarmed, incredulous whispers susurrated like hiss-wyrmgrubs throughout the bridge.

“ _Silence_ —and keep to your stations.” Thrawn’s rigid command was a whiplash that evoked instant obedience.

“ _Faster, Master Jedi_ ,” Thrawn intoned closer to Kanan’s ear.

“I told you to call me Kanan,” he growled back, jabbing controls to push the starship to the dangerous brink of its capabilities. The _Chimaera_ gathered momentum at what felt like a hibernating snail’s pace until the sublight engines finally reached sufficient speed.

“Sir!” Captain Makeri almost shouted. “The mass has cleared the planet.”  

Ezra’s fingers dug into his back. Kanan engaged the hyperspace controls. “Here. We. Go.”

In an instant, the stars stretched into lightwires which engulfed the ship and morphed into the blurred tunnel of hyperspace. Kanan could hear everyone on the bridge, including himself, actually breathe again. _Let’s see how long our escape lasts—or if this ship holds together_ . Kanan tried to forget he was headlining the longest jump the _Chimaera_ had made in five years.

Ezra patted his back with an answering thought. _Relax. She’s_ mostly _repaired_. Kanan turned his head to join Ezra in a falsely droll smile.

Thrawn’s calculating gaze swept them both. “I have no doubt the Nihilum scanned the Chimaera quite thoroughly before the jump. They will be on the hunt for us, and to reclaim their stolen craft.”

Ezra shifted uneasily. “Shouldn’t the nebula’s magnetic and gravitational activity mask our trail?”

Thrawn frowned sharply at the viewport’s hyperspace tunnel, tapping at his chin. “If their technology does not include highly advanced hyperspace tracking and filtering sensors.” His broad shoulders stiffened. “We shall know soon enough.”

_Not exactly a ringing endorsement for our safety. Not to mention the Nihilum won’t matter a whit if a rogue star plows into us head on first._

With that in mind, Kanan shut his eyes against the blue-white whorl of hyperspace and looked upon the hurtling galaxy with his enhanced Force-vision. He nodded silent thanks for the gift from those sightless years after Malachor, for it was only through the Force’s excruciating lesson of patience that he’d developed and fine-tuned the abilities so desperately needed now.

Time lost all meaning as Kanan became one with the shimmering connections between countless stars and their spinning clusters of planetary and other cosmic debris. Looming directly ahead, the Boomerang shone like a glimmering spider’s web stretched between two giant Kashyyyk trees. Its entire span undulated as if a gale force wind was intent on shaking each dew drop from the nebula’s wobbling threads.

Throughout the journey, Kanan heard the mother purrgil’s on and off keening in the back of his mind, but he trusted in PZ and Ezra to translate and relay her demands. The younger Jedi’s hand remained like a rudder at Kanan’s back, each subtle shift of his fingers a pointer for Kanan to nudge the yoke toward a safer shortcut favored by their ponderous hitchhikers.

Threading through the Boomerang’s heart, Kanan felt as if he were an insignificant flying insect snared within the endlessly exploding fireworks of Empire Day. The threat of ship-shattering turbulence dragged at them from all sides. Dume’s presence was like an invisible safety net, and Kanan was not too proud to welcome the entity’s overriding pulses of energy to direct his fingertips on the yoke. With a series of delicate, evasive maneuvers, the _Chimaera_ finally emerged unscathed from the last spray of hungry stars.

Kanan and Ezra had only a few moments to shift and stretch their aching inner and outer selves before it was time to plunge into the grand finale. Ezra’s hand moved to Kanan’s shoulder while Kanan closed his eyes once more. He envisioned the Star Destroyer alighting gracefully upon the upcoming sea of asteroids like an Alderaanian swan.

“Entering real space,” Kanan rasped through a very dry throat, his trembling hands completing the control sequence. He cracked his eyes open to find Thrawn standing before the viewport, thoroughly assessing a very rugged, almost planetoid-sized asteroid that floated in the near distance in relative isolation. It was riddled with large cracks and pits filled with dense, blue-green gases.

“I’m guessing it’s the purrgil version of Old Jho’s Pit Stop,” Ezra said with a tinge of sadness.

Kanan gave Ezra’s hand a comforting pat. “Then I’m guessing it’s time to say goodbye.”

In one last maneuver, Kanan aligned the _Chimaera_ into a geosynchronous orbit around the mini-giant asteroid, relieved to take advantage of the wide niche it had cleared between itself and an outlying ring of rocks that zoomed in the distance. _I should up my opinion of the purrgils’ capacity for cleverness a few more notches._

PZ-5 tapped away at her console, her head tilted at a pleased angle. “Successful arrival at destination complete at four hours, twelve minutes, and twenty-one point two seconds.”

Kanan felt like a battery in desperate need of a recharge. _Not to mention a refresher_. He sat still, gathering the energy to stand up, dimly aware of the bridge humming with activity. The Grand Admiral paused at the helm to acknowledge Kanan and Ezra with a curt, but satisfied nod.

“Well done…Kanan…and Commander Bridger. I must admit that you exceeded my expectations. Carry on.” Thrawn strode away to attend to his post-jump rounds. “Status, Captain?”

“Grand Admiral, the engineering team reports the main hanger stands ready for intake of the enemy craft.”

“Excellent. Prepare for the immediate and secure transfer of our cargo, then release the purrgil.”

“Aye, sir.” Makeri then added to herself softly, but fervently, “And good riddance to the lot of them.”

Ezra huffed in indignation, then squeezed Kanan’s shoulder. “Hera would be really proud of you,” he murmured hoarsely.

Kanan’s heart pumped with renewed vigor. _We’re that much closer to her now_. He forced himself out of the chair to grin back at his not-padawan. “Prouder of you, kid.” Ezra beamed and Kanan chuckled dryly. “But let’s never do _that_ again.”

Kanan managed a weary nod for the regular Imperial pilot politely waiting to take back his spot, then focused on following Ezra toward the bridge walkway without stumbling. _Good thing we survived, or I’d have missed my overdue nap_.

PZ-5 had disengaged from her console to join them. “Master Ezra, I’ll go with you to the main hanger to monitor the purrgil’s release.”

“Thanks, Pee-Zee. I’ll stay focused on keeping mom and baby calm.”

Kanan had to stop in mid-step when Ezra suddenly halted and leaned in conspiratorially. “I’m sorry, Kanan, but do you mind keeping an eye on things up here?  Once they have that Nihilum on board, I’m not sure how, uh, careful they’ll be.”

 _He’s right._ Kanan rolled his stiff shoulders and offered a sideways smile. “I’ve got you.”

Ezra grinned his thanks and the Jedi parted ways. Kanan moved back toward the viewport and massaged the aching muscles in his neck as he waited. Something inside him still felt uneasy and his eyes kept darting to the more distant asteroids as if expecting to find something terrible lurking behind the rocky debris.

Finally, Captain Makeri announced to Thrawn. “Cargo secured aboard. Tractor beam engaged, sir.”

Kanan sighed with relief, then concentrated on using the Force to enhance the tractor beam as it slowly ferried the purrgil toward the asteroid below. Little by little, the tentacle-waving mother and baby descended. Kanan made sure the tractor beam gently deposited the pair into the largest crater, and the creatures slid under the surface of the undulating gases.

“Targets released, tractor beam disengaged.”

 _Mission accomplished_. Kanan turned to Thrawn and stated flatly, “I’m going to my quarters to pass out now.”

The Grand Admiral’s eyes raked Kanan up and down, and the corner of his mouth quirked. “Shall I assign an escort to ensure you don’t collapse along the way?”

“Hah. Very funny. Sir.” Kanan bestowed Thrawn with a lazy, two fingered salute before heading away. He felt almost giddy, barely aware of the volatile mix of respectful nods and resentful glares from the various officers and technicians manning the station consoles along his way.

Just before Kanan reached the blast door, he felt an overpowering warning surge from Dume and the Force. He froze in his tracks and whipped his head toward Thrawn. “Incoming!”

A proximity alert shrieked. Every head on the bridge snapped to attention.

“Sir—an unidentified craft dropping out of hyperspace!” Captain Makeri strode toward Thrawn, her face rigid.

“All shields, full power!” The Grand Admiral’s crimson eyes flared.

Kanan watched with numb senses as an absolutely enormous starship abruptly filled the space above the asteroid. It was a massive, black wedge full of weaponry and malice--and too horribly familiar in design to be anything other than an Imperial warship. _Huh. A warship that makes the Chimaera look like a baby purrgil._

 _Danger on all sides indeed_. A litany sputtered into Kanan’s mind that turned his blood to ice and obliterated his fatigue in an instant. _The Emperor is dead, long live the Empire_. What came out of his mouth: " _Kriff_!”

Around Kanan, the bridge crew was reacting to the massive ship’s unexpected presence with unabated elation and excitement. Thrawn flung up a commanding hand. “ _Silence_! Remain vigilant!”

The crew hushed immediately, but all eyes still gleamed eagerly despite the Grand Admiral’s cold glare.

“Open a channel, Captain.” Thrawn turned to the viewport with his shoulders squared, and hands planted regally behind his back. “Unidentified Imperial ship, this is Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Chimaera—”

He was cut off by a holotransmission of a grotesque, reptilian humanoid with blueish, bulging eyes.

“You hail the almighty Super Star Destroyer, Liberty’s Misrule!” The speaker’s gray-scaled snout gaped into a smile, revealing irregular, very sharp teeth. “I am Vinthar, the Sarkan of Egg Brood Xazin'-nizar.”

Kanan’s skittering thoughts slammed to a stop inside his skull. _A Sarkan…in charge of a...Super Star Destroyer_?  Everyone on the bridge—Thrawn included—stood thunderstruck.

“I envy you today for the blessing you are about to receive,” Vinthar proclaimed with a grand gesture that fluttered his flamboyant, embroidered robes. “You are poised ineluctably to meet her highness, his glory, zher wonder, zher luminous magnificence—the picaroon! The plunderer! Behold, the glorious ruler of Wild Space, Eleodie Maracavanya!"

 _What the hell in the nine hells?_ Stunned silence continued to reign over Kanan and the _Chimaera’s_ bridge as Vinthar bowed to make way for a tall, slender human of indeterminate gender to take over the transmission.

Maracavanya wore an elaborately knotted head scarf and a vivid red, knee-length long coat that stood out even in the washed-out colors of the holo. The coat’s high collar framed an imposing face with piercing, golden eyes. Maracavanya raised a hand with gold-tipped fingers in benevolent greeting, then spoke melodiously through a vocoder.

“Grand Admiral Thrawn and mates of the Chimaera, gaze upon the Sovereign Latitudes of Maracavanya...” The ruler of Wild Space opened zher arms wide.

Outside the viewport, a mighty flotilla of dozens upon dozens of smaller ships dropped out of hyperspace. _Pirate ships_. They coalesced around the Super Star Destroyer like a cloud of sand flies enveloping a bantha.

“And now we’re gonna have to blow you to bits, for this is the way of things to make happy our friends of the New Republic.” Maracavanya’s smile was almost apologetic.

“It’s nothing personal.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for still existing formatting errors, I'm still finding glitches that happened in the cut & paste. I'm fixing them in stages as my eyes will allow ;)
> 
> Again, thanks to one and all for reading and for all the encouragement and support I've been receiving along the way. I hope you are enjoying this "as canon as I can make it" return of Kanan. We'll get him and his dear Hera (and Jacen!) together again before all is said and done, haha. I'll do my best to remain true to all the characters in these adventures...

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to all who are hanging in there with this fixit fic, I so appreciate all the comments, kudos and support to continue to the end. When I originally wrote the first part, it was intended as a stand alone. I had no inkling of moving forward, so my pace hasn't been all that swift to say the least...and, boy, has it all gotten more complicated than I originally intended! 
> 
> Meanwhile, I'm keeping up with SW Resistance, I read the "Aftermath" series, along with the two new Thrawn novels not only for fun, but with the goal of staying in the realm of canon as much as I can moving forward (considering, you know, that Kanan's alive in this AU, ha). I'm hoping the upcoming book "Alphabet Squadron" won't blow my premise to bits. So, this is a work in progress (I'll likely need to edit things a bit here and there once it's all done to be sure I stayed consistent with myself, let alone canon, whee!). Thank you again for your kind enthusiasm!


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